


heal with thyme

by luckyday



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: (and we were both boys), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Past Parental Death, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, M/M, Moving On, Mutual Pining, Normal Human Han Jisung, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Witch Lee Minho | Lee Know, and helped each other heal from our pasts, these boys are bad at emotions but they are TRYING!, what if we kissed in the enchanted garden in the woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 70,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25277812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckyday/pseuds/luckyday
Summary: Minho's used to silence. He's used to the way the villagers avoid his eyes when they visit him asking for help, the way they look at him with fear and distrust when they think he can't see. He's used to his world being the sprawling garden within the old ivy-covered iron fence and the familiar warmth of the cottage. He's used to it just being him, his cats, and the old journals.It isn't until a villager somehow wanders into the garden despite the enchantments that he's faced with how unbearably isolated he's become, or how hard it is to open up to someone after years of being alone— or how freeing it is to know someone understands him.-Or, the one where Minho is a lonely village witch and Jisung is a plucky village boy who's determined to befriend him.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 129
Kudos: 799
Collections: STRAY KIDS BIGBANG: 2020





	1. spring to summer

**Author's Note:**

> **this fic contains content related to parental death for both minho and jisung**. it's presented in a serious way as the two of them are both processing their grief and it does have a prominent role in their story. neither instances of it occur in the actual fic and it's simply referenced by both characters in their conversations and minho's inner monologue, however please proceed with caution if that's something that may upset you! **that said, this fic isn't tragedy porn and is lighter than this warning may make it appear! it's still focused primarily on minho and jisung's sweet budding romance.**
> 
> the incredibly cute art piece that goes with this fic can be found [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XHJKRepu37tBkc-LijH3Q2axl1IeS5kO/view?usp=sharing)!!!! it was done by [ssomfa](https://twitter.com/ssomfa) and it's non-spoilery if you want to look at it before starting!! and i highly encourage you to do so because it's ADORABLE :)

Hypocrisy, Minho thinks as he grinds rose petals into a fine powder, must surely be the most basic trait of humanity. 

The man standing in his kitchen is fidgety, shifting from one foot to the other as he watches Minho work, sweat beading on his skin as he glances around the room of the small cottage. Minho had offered him a seat at the worn wooden table when he first let him in but the man refused, choosing instead to stand awkwardly, practically vibrating from nerves. Every few seconds he clears his throat or coughs, the fabric of his clothing shifting audibly in the room that's silent save for the sound of Minho working. 

Glad that his back is to him as he finishes grinding the petals, Minho can’t help but roll his eyes. 

It would be a lot more comfortable if the man had just taken the chair when Minho offered it to him in the first place. This is a quick order, something that only takes ten minutes to fill, but it must not be very pleasant standing silently waiting for Minho to finish. 

_Well,_ Minho thinks, mustering some amusement as he tips the rose powder into the small vial of milky liquid he’s had sitting to the side, _at least he’s not like the butcher who demands to know every single thing I’m doing while I mix his pain medication. I’ll take a quiet customer over one who won’t shut up and let me do my job any day._

It doesn’t help that the man is obviously uncomfortable being inside the cottage. None of the villagers that make the trek through the woods up to the cottage are ever comfortable and the way they act inside his home, how they treat him, it makes that clear as day. Oh, they’re all different, of course. They react in their own unique way. 

There’s the butcher who makes Minho explain everything he does every time he comes like he’s afraid he’ll try to curse him or something instead of making his medication— he probably is. He’s probably Minho’s least favorite customer simply because while his order is relatively simple, it always takes twice as long to complete because the man needs to be overly involved. And there’s this man, of course. Minho isn’t too sure what he does, he doesn’t speak much outside of the way he stutters out his request every time he comes to get another vial. He’d guess he’s a shopkeeper; he doesn’t have the rough, worn hands of the farmers that come to the cottage. He’s nowhere near as bad as the butcher because of how little he speaks, but Minho learned very quickly that it was better to face the wall and use his workbench as much as possible when this customer is here. His nervous energy and constant movement annoys Minho and distracts him— and the man always fidgets more when Minho is facing him. 

There’s a woman in her thirties who comes in every few months who always stares at the shelves in the kitchen, stocked from top to bottom with jars and boxes and various other containers of ingredients. She only does it when she thinks Minho isn’t looking, of course, but he must admit the awe on her face is a bit amusing, as is the way it vanishes when she realizes he’s noticed, the way she stiffens. She never asks him questions about it but Minho can tell she wants to. She doesn't, and Minho doubts she ever will. It's one thing to go to the witch in the woods and ask him to mix something, it’s a completely different thing to show interest in his magic. 

The villagers need his magic, his herbalism. They don’t need to know about him or the contents of his cottage or the sprawling garden gated off from the outside. 

There are others who come to the cottage from the nearby village, but for the most part, they all act similarly. However they manifest it, his guests are always nervous. 

Honestly, with the way some of them act you’d think they walked into a demon’s lair instead of a witch’s cottage— although, to the villagers, Minho supposes those things are the same. Still, what does it say that the same villagers that fear and resent him for being something ‘unnatural’ still make the long trek through the woods to make a deal with the devil? 

Not that Minho’s particularly devilish if you ask him. He actually considers himself rather mild-mannered and boring despite his affinity for magic. Maybe it’s all the years in semi-isolation to blame for that, but the most evil thing about him is probably that he sometimes moves his cats off his lap while they’re sleeping so he can get up. 

Yeah, well, actually that is pretty evil now that he thinks about it. Truly unforgivable. Maybe the villagers are justified in their distrust of him after all. 

Giving the vial a little shake to mix the contents, Minho strokes a finger along the glass and murmurs the familiar incantation, a faint rosy spark of magic tracing behind his fingertip as he channels it into the vial. He always makes sure to do this where the villagers can’t see. They come to him for his magic, of course, but he’d much rather skip over the queasy expressions they always wear when they actually witness him casting. They don’t actually want to know any part of the process— even the butcher who dogs Minho for answers as he tries to work, that’s simply a paranoia thing— they just want the cleanly prepared vial or charm or what have you that they can use and pretend with all their might that it’s just some herbal remedy, not something that breaches their own morals and superstitions. 

Hypocrites, Minho thinks again. All humans really are the same. 

Raising the vial in his hand so it's illuminated by the warm light of the lantern at his workbench, he inspects it. To his satisfaction, the liquid inside has turned a rather lovely looking pastel pink, not all that different from the color of the sweet blossoms that bloom in spring near the river south of the village, not far from the path through the woods that leads to his cottage. 

Slowly turning to look at the man in his kitchen for the first time, Minho watches as he jumps when he realizes the witch is looking at him once more. He tries his best to hide his amusement, although he can't help the way one corner of his mouth curls up slightly. He’s far past the point of being bothered by the way the villagers fear him. He may as well get a little bit of humor out of it if he’s going to put up with it every time they come asking for help. 

“One vial of Dreamless Peace,” Minho says, gently setting it on the table between them. He’s long since figured out that it was much safer than directly trying to hand their orders to them— too many of them suddenly develop sweaty, shaky hands when he tries that. Too many broken things. He’d much rather minimize the waste of both his time, magic, and ingredients if possible. 

The man nervously picks it up, sliding it into his pocket before he has the chance to drop it. He’s one of the worst offenders and the main reason Minho started avoiding directly passing things to the villagers. “So,” his voice is quick and breathless, like he’s desperate to get out of here but has to be sure, “it’s— it’s the same as always?” 

Minho barely cuts back an exasperated sigh. Schooling his tone, he manages to reply in his monotone voice, “Yes, I would tell you if something changed. Just dab a bit of it on your daughter’s forehead when she has night terrors and she’ll sleep peacefully for the rest of the night. Just like always.” 

The man barely looks reassured by Minho’s words, but still he nods. Wordlessly, he does a sharp turn on his heels and scurries out the cottage door, headed back down the long path to the village. 

Minho watches him go through the cottage window with a sense of bitter-tinged amusement, shaking his head as a familiar orange cat jumps up on the kitchen table and nudges his hand. He turns to her, gently scratching her under her chin. 

“Not even a thank you, huh, Soonie?” Minho watches her lick at his hand in response, his face softening as his mouth curls into a fond smile. “Quite rude, the lot of ‘em.” 

Soonie meows, although Minho knows that’s just because she’s hungry— which means Doongie and Dori are probably starving. She’s always been the most mellow of the three, balancing out Doongie’s almost grumpy laziness and Dori’s hyperactivity. The three of them know to stay out of the way of the villagers, having seemingly little interest in the strange people who visit the cottage. It’s almost as if they can tell the villagers don’t like Minho and want nothing to do with them. Animals are smart after all, and cats especially so. 

Rest assured, however, that they’ll always come begging for food and attention after the villagers leave and Minho’s alone in the cottage again. 

Oh well. Minho vastly prefers the company of his cats over the villagers anyways. 

Alone once more, he settles back into his usual routine. He sets out food for the cats, making sure it’s carefully measured with Doongie’s food on the other side of the cottage in Minho's bedroom. Doongie does everything at his own pace, including eating. Dori does the same, however her pace is much faster than his, and when she’s finished with her food she has a bad habit of sneaking in and eating his as well. It took him a while after he took Dori in to finally admit to himself that he probably wasn’t going to naturally break her of this habit, so the best thing to do was just to change Doongie’s feeding area. 

After he sets out the food for the cats he watches them eat fondly, leaning his chin on his hand as he leans against the kitchen table. Yeah, despite everything, cats are definitely better than people. 

Satisfied that they’re taken care of, Minho goes about the rest of his duties that need tending to. He takes out his notebook filled with scribbled orders and notes, plucking out the more complicated orders that can’t be finished in less than twenty minutes and thus are filled in his own time and picked up when scheduled. He only has two right now— not bad at all considering. During autumn especially he gets mass orders from the village for all sorts of charms and potions and what have you. They like to stock up for winter it seems— he can’t really blame them, the long trek from the village up through the woods to his cottage isn’t exactly pleasant, especially in winter. 

He has three days to make the potion written down here and five for the charm. Still, he’d much rather have them prepared instead of rushing at the last moment. There’s only so long he can put them off anyways as the potion in particular needs to brew overnight. 

So Minho gets to work, starting to develop the base of the potion. He’ll have to go into the garden for some of the ingredients that will be mixed in after it’s brewed for a day, but that can wait until tomorrow. 

When he’s satisfied with the potion for now, he cleans. He cleans a lot, actually. Minho wouldn't exactly call himself a clean freak, but he’s definitely no slob. If he’s being honest, the reason he cleans so much is just that he doesn’t really have much to do in terms of non-magic, non-reading, non-cat activity. At least when he’s cleaning he moves around the cottage quite a bit and he gets the illusion of feeling productive. 

He dusts and sweeps. He reorganizes his storage. He notes what he needs to use so it doesn’t go to waste, even if it’s just used for his own experiments. He changes his sheets, taking the moment to check and see that yes, Doongie has finally finished his food. 

Finally, when he no longer has anything left to clean or pretend to clean, Minho plucks one of the worn leather-bound journals from the floor to ceiling bookshelves in the living room, takes a seat in the ancient rocking chair by the window, and starts to read. He hasn’t read this one before. Admittedly, he’s often a creature of habit and just ends up rereading the same journals as if they were beloved storybooks instead of research notes. There’s just something comforting about reading the familiar handwriting, the familiar theories about how to perfect a certain kind of charm or the benefits of balancing magic and herbalism instead of just relying on magic by itself to do everything. 

He does like digging deeper into the collection, however. Minho loves learning new things, loves broadening the way he views even a subject that he thinks he knows well. There is an endless wealth of wisdom in every single journal here, and while he hasn’t tested everything that he’s read in them, he still appreciates the fact that he knows these things exist and that should he have the time or opportunity to experiment, he has the journals and all their information to lean back on for help. 

He spends his evening like that, reading until the sun sinks below the trees outside and the light no longer reaches in through the window of the cottage. Minho simply licks the tips of his fingers and pinches the wick of the white wax candle on the table beside him, voices soft as he absentmindedly murmurs an incantation. A second after he moves his hand away, the candle catches flame. 

It’s not a particularly exciting day, but when is it ever? It’s familiar. Comfortable. The same as it is every day. 

That’s really all he can ask for. 

\---

The sun rises over the treetops, spilling light in through the curtains and washing over Minho’s sleeping form. He stirs under the sunshine, groggily blinking as the sounds of birds chirping outside in the garden fill the quiet cottage. 

He doesn’t have any pickups today. Hypothetically he could sleep in, wake up later and do everything closer to the afternoon. He has the time. 

He grimaces. That doesn’t really matter, though. He always has the time, so why put it off? 

With a big sigh, he pushes himself up on his elbows, yawning as he sits up fully and rolls his shoulders, his body still heavy from sleep. Soonie is curled up on his left side, her nose tucked under her paws. Dori is splayed out half on top of his feet. Doongie is nowhere to be seen, but he suspects he’s most likely sleeping somewhere underneath the bed. Smiling fondly, he reaches out and gently lays his hands on Soonie’s flank. She makes a soft _mmrft_ sound but doesn’t wake. 

“Alright, alright,” he says softly, lifting his hand. “I’ll let you sleep.” 

He glances down at his feet at the youngest, still using his feet as a pillow. 

“You, however,” Minho says with some amusement, slowly trying to extract his feet from underneath her. Dori stirs after one foot is gone, her hazel eyes blinking at him in annoyance. Smiling apologetically, he pulls the other one out from under her, careful so she doesn’t get too rude of an awakening. “Sorry, Dori. I have to get up.” 

It doesn’t really matter how gentle he is. Any awakening and removal of her pillow at all is a slight against her. She swats at his foot with her paw, her claws still sheathed. He can’t help but laugh as he stretches to reach the foot of the bed to rub her ears affectionately. She begrudgingly accepts it, although her tail flicking does give her enjoyment away. 

There’s no point in getting dressed somewhat decently if nobody is coming so he just shrugs on a long woolen overcoat and pats down his ruffled hair as he makes his way out into the rest of the cottage. 

He inspects the potion he left out to develop overnight in the windowsill. He thinks the skies were clear enough that the moonlight found its way in— in any case, the base of the potion seems to have turned out alright. What had resembled cloudy water now appears like a delicate silver, almost like liquid metal swirling inside the cauldron. In the morning light, it’s hard to tell but it does have the faint glow that tells him it should be ready to develop properly later today. 

He’ll focus on making the charms later. If he’s being honest, he isn’t too keen on these charms. Weaving thread into their proper patterns and incorporating whatever ingredients he needs all while continuously enchanting is both tedious and exhausting and as much as he wants to get everything over with before it’s time for things to be picked up, he really doesn’t want to work on them this early. 

So instead he takes stock of his ingredients and notes down things he’s running low on in one of his journals. With his list in hand, he picks up the big basket he keeps by the back door and steps outside. 

It’s warm this morning. Immediately he’s grateful he decided to do the outside portion of this so early in the morning because even if it’s not overwhelmingly hot right now, it’s the kind of morning heat that hangs heavy over everything and will only get worse the further into the day it gets. He pauses in the doorway, squinting out into the garden as his eyes adjust to the harsh sunlight. There’s not a single cloud in the sky. 

He decides to forego the straw hat hanging on the wall inside. While the back of the cottage is in direct sunlight right now, the garden is massive enough that the many trees inside of it provide some shelter. As long as he gathers everything he needs before midday the sun shouldn’t be too much of a problem. 

He makes his way down the familiar garden path, habitually stepping on each of the white stones embedded in the ground and not an inch out of place. That’s something he doesn’t think he’ll ever really get over. It’s a childish habit and he knows it, but still he can’t shake how wrong it would feel to suddenly stop the careful way he matches every step to the stones after years of it. 

Bushes of all sizes and shapes line the path around him, the varying shades of green stretching out before him like a patchwork quilt. He never bothers to trim any of them— not unless he’s harvesting something from them— so they’ve all grown out in whatever way they please, overgrown and intertwined together in that way humans would consider unsightly. It doesn’t really matter to Minho. He likes the way it looks, the way his presence in the cottage doesn’t impede nature from doing its work. 

Well. Nature and the enchantment of the garden. 

He stops under the shade of an oak tree, crouching down next to one of the bushes and plucking a couple of raspberries from between the green leaves. He pops them into his mouth one by one as he walks, humming softly in approval. 

He navigates through the winding paths of the garden effortlessly, each tree and flower and bush as familiar as the cottage itself. If push came to shove he could easily map out the garden in its entirety— and not just all of the winding paths, but he could put down every bit of flora on that map as well. He’s spent so much time here over the years and harvested from everything so many times that it’s impossible for him not to know. He could probably walk it blindfolded. 

He stops every few minutes as he makes his way through the garden to take the little shears out of the basket and snip whatever he needs when he comes across something on his list. He’s careful not to take too much. It’s not that he really needs to worry about that seeing as the enchantment speeds up the growth of the garden, but still. It feels wrong to take more than he needs. After all, he can come back whenever he runs out of this and the garden will have replenished itself by the time he’s used everything he’s harvesting. 

Birds chirp in the branches above him as he walks, their song filling the air and making him smile. He doesn’t know too much about all the different kinds of birds that visit the garden and honestly that’s a shame. If he’s being truthful, as much as life revolves around plants because of his work and kind of magic, he’s infinitely more interested in animals. Shiwon’s journals all tend to skim over the wildlife in the garden, however, and to a certain degree he understands why considering their magic doesn’t use living creatures at all. That doesn’t stop him from being disappointed anyways in the lack of resources at his disposal. 

Thoughts of birds disperse as Minho comes to a break in the winding path, coming to a halt where it opens up into a small clearing. A pond with crystal clear water sits at the center of it, reflecting the early morning sunshine. On the opposite bank from Minho, a willow tree leans towards the pond, the delicate leaves of its long, wispy branches skimming the surface of the water. The breeze moves them gently, droplets of water running down the leaves and back to where they came when the branch lifts ever so slightly before swaying back down again. 

_Weeping willow indeed,_ Minho thinks as he presses his lips together into a thin line, something heavy settling in his stomach as he stares at the tree. 

It’s not like there aren’t other ways to the ingredients he’s gathering, it’s just this is the fastest and most convenient way to all of them. He wants to be inside by the time the heat becomes unbearable, after all. That means dealing with the strange, unnamable feeling that always overcomes him when he’s in the clearing. 

Taking a deep breath, Minho bows deeply to the tree. He grasps the basket tightly in front of him with both hands, his knuckles turning white. He holds that pose for a long moment before finally he rights himself, reaching up to straighten his collar before he hurriedly continues to where the white stone path picks up further around the circle of the clearing. 

As soon as he’s back in the comforting embrace of the plants all around him with the clearing to his back he lets out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing. 

From here the path starts to wind back towards the cottage. It branches off a few times in other directions as well, but Minho has no need to go down those ways today. There’s just one more thing on his list that he needs— a bundle of daisies. They actually aren’t that far from the cottage itself, it’s just easier for him to pick them up on the way back from getting everything else. 

He comes to the familiar crossroads, humming in appreciation when he spots them in a dappled patch of sunlight. 

“There you are,” he says under his breath, crouching down beside them. He sets his basket on the ground next to him, taking a moment to eye the daisies and do the usual calculations he does any time he takes things from the garden. He doesn’t need too many and they’re small enough where the garden grows them back fairly quickly, usually within a day or two. 

Maybe three? Minho thinks as he reaches out to touch one. 

A twig snaps behind him and Minho freezes in place, hand still outstretched towards the flower. 

Now, there are living things in the garden, of course. There’s a family of rabbits that live in a burrow on the far side of the garden near the rose bushes. Squirrels climb over the fences and hang out in the trees all the time, and enough birds come to the garden that Minho has considered going to the next town over and trying to find a birdwatcher’s book— he remembers that they have a fairly large bookstore there, so surely they’d have something on the subject. He’s decided against it every time the thought occurred to him, however, as it’s been years since he even went into the village, much less anywhere larger or further away. Besides the little creatures that are easily spotted just looking out the cottage window, it’s not uncommon for Minho to see the odd badger or even a skunk waddling through the garden that somehow got in through the fence, although he always makes sure to stay out of their way. He appreciates and respects nature and all of the animals in it, but the last thing he wants is to agitate a rowdy badger or even worse risk getting sprayed by a skunk. Part of respecting nature, in his humble opinion, is knowing when to stay the fuck out of its way. It may be his garden, but it belongs just as much to the forest it was originally part of. 

So no, it’s not at all uncommon for animals to enter the garden freely. If a creature who means no harm needs something and the garden can provide, the garden will allow entry. 

But the problem is that the foot that broke the twig is far too heavy to be any of the small creatures that usually inhabit the garden. A deer, Minho reasons, still frozen in place, because that makes… some sense. He’s seen a couple in the garden over the years, but usually only late at night or very early in the morning while looking out to window of the cottage. They’re skittish around humans, and despite what the villagers seem to think, Minho is still a human. 

But it’s currently mid-afternoon with the sun shining overhead, not at all the time they usually visit. He’s not even sure if the garden would let the deer in if they’d just be spooked away by Minho’s presence outside. 

So if it’s unlikely to be a deer, what’s heavy enough to be the thing behind him? 

Swallowing thickly, Minho retracts his hand from where it was frozen in place and lets it fall to his side before slowly turning his head to look at whatever it is. 

When his eyes fall on another human being, Minho just about chokes on his own spit in shock. 

It’s a young man— one that’s seemingly close in age to Minho, although at first glance he doesn’t think the stranger is older than him, maybe a little younger. He has shaggy hair, dark brown with the kind of highlights that only come out after spending lots of time in the sun. He has a round face that gives him a youthful appearance and his lips are parted as he stares back at Minho with wide, dark eyes. 

He wears a faded gray shirt tucked into the waist of a pair of simple brown trousers, the ends of which are rolled up and half-tucked into the dark brown work boots he wears. He doesn’t seem very big— in fact, the stranger seems rather thin and short— but the workboots are the heavy kind, heavy enough where Minho wonders how the stranger managed to get this close without Minho hearing his footsteps before he stepped on the twig. 

He doesn’t seem dangerous, but honestly, it’s hard to tell with other humans. 

Coming to his senses, Minho immediately gets to his feet, leaving his basket on the ground in case he needs to have his hands free if this… whatever this encounter is— just in case it escalates. 

The stranger looks sheepishly at him, hands raised palms out in front of his chest in the universal gesture of _I don’t mean any harm please don’t hurt me_. Which is honestly a little rich to Minho that he seems so anxious, as if the other isn’t the one trespassing. 

Minho stares at the young man in front of him in complete disbelief, not even bothering to try to mask how utterly baffled he is. How in the world did he get into the garden? The garden is enchanted; the only person it allows to freely come and go is Minho himself. 

He keeps his hands at his sides as he straightens up, curling them into fists but careful to keep them away from his pockets in case that provokes the stranger. Keeping his voice as steady as he can manage, Minho demands, “Where did you come from?” 

The stranger blinks rapidly, turning to look over his shoulder in the direction he presumably came from. “Um… the gate? On the side with all of the ivy?” 

His voice is surprisingly soft. Lower than Minho expected from someone so slight and short. It’s not the booming depth of the butcher or the husky roughness of the tavern keeper, the only word coming to him to describe the stranger's voice being rich. 

But now isn’t the time to think about his voice, because Minho has far more pressing things to worry about— namely the fact that this person just said something impossible. 

“You mean to say you just… walked in?” Minho asks incredulously. 

The stranger seems unsure suddenly, like Minho being completely baffled at his presence is making him doubt himself.. “Yes?” 

“You realize this garden is magic, right? It’s enchanted,” Minho says, pointing up at his face. “The only one it lets in is me.” Then another thought occurs to Minho. “You realize that you are trespassing, right?” 

The boy’s eyes go wide as saucers as he frantically shakes his head. “No! I mean, well, er— yes, I am. But I’m really sorry! I was coming up the path and the gate caught my eye, and when I went over to it, it just… opened.” 

Minho stares at him. “...By itself?” 

“Yes,” he says, sounding more sure of himself now. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Minho murmurs, more to himself than the stranger as he presses his hand against his forehead. None of this makes sense, not unless he used magic to enter the garden. Eyes snapping up to look at the boy once more, he asks, “Are you a witch?” 

The strange guest looks bewildered. “No?” 

Not satisfied, he presses, “Let me rephrase: do you possess magic in any capacity, regardless of whether or not you consider yourself a witch?” 

“No!” The other shakes his head rapidly. “I’ve never even seen magic being cast, much less cast it myself!” 

Frustrated, Minho gestures around the two of them at the vast greenery. “Then how in the world did you get into my garden?” 

“I told you, I came in through the—” 

“The gate, yes, yes. I heard you,” Minho snaps. He doesn’t need to hear that again. “But that doesn’t make sense because it doesn't let anybody in, not unless it’s me or, presumably, another witch. So why did it let you in here?” 

The stranger bites down on his bottom lip, looking at Minho in complete confusion. That only serves to make Minho more frustrated. This guy just isn’t understanding what he’s asking. “Um, I’m really sorry. I really don’t know why your garden let me in if it’s supposed to keep other people out.” 

Minho lets out a big sigh at that. Yeah, alright. Whatever is up with this person, he doubts he’ll get any answers from him. Careful to keep one hand free as he mentally pulls up the incantation and gesture for the basic defensive magic Shiwon taught him— a simple stunning spell that paralyzes someone for a few minutes— he begins to take a few steps closer to the stranger. 

The other’s dark eyes widen, holding up his hands again as he stammers out, “Wait! I’m really sorry I don’t know anything and that I trespassed!” 

“I’m not going to hurt you unless you hurt me first,” Minho snaps, and the stranger’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. The anxious expression on his face doesn’t shift, however. 

“Oh,” he says slowly, lowering his hands just a little bit. “That’s good.” 

“Be lucky I’m not turning you to stone or something,” Minho says, the fib slipping out of his mouth in a moment of frustration. He has no idea how to do that. He knows it’s possible, he just has no clue how to use magic like that. (And if he’s being honest, he doesn’t really want to. He’s fine with his healing and protection focused magic and the very few defensive spells he doesn’t really have any use for— at least until today, maybe.) 

The stranger's face visibly pales. “Can you really do that?” 

“Of course,” Minho shoots back immediately. “And I can change my mind any moment I want if you don’t hurry up and get out.” 

The other’s back straightens immediately, lips pressed into a thin line. “Ah! Yeah, yes, don’t worry— I’ll be going now.” He fumbles over his last word, wide eyes darting around the garden as if he’s suddenly had a realization. Slowly raising a hand, he points behind him. “Um, I know I came from that way, but I have a really bad sense of direction and this is a big place, so what if I—” 

“Fine,” Minho snaps, walking forward and seizing the bewildered boy by the back of his collar and spinning him around. “I’ll show you out. Hurry up.” 

The boy sputters, “Th-thank you!” 

Shaking his head, Minho ushers the boy out of his garden, unable to rid himself of how wrong it feels for someone else to be inside of it. 

He doesn’t even want to contemplate what it means if the garden truly did let him inside. Is its magic failing? There should be no expiration on the enchantment that protects his cottage and his garden from outsiders— or at least not one any time soon. Judging by the research notes in the journals, the enchantment that wards this place involves a ritual that must be done once a day for an entire year. That kind of magic is powerful stuff, something that only wears off after a century. Shiwon managed to hide her age and appear younger than she actually was, he knew that even when he was a child, but he didn’t think she was over a century old. That just… doesn’t add up to him. She was powerful, but not powerful enough to extend her lifespan that long and hide it so well. He doesn’t think anybody could, or at the very least not a hedge witch like her. He loves Shiwon, truly he does, even idolizes her— but he’s not deluded when it comes to her capability as a witch. He’s read her notes, he likes to think he has a good grasp of his mentor’s magical potency at this point. 

So that leaves the burning question of how in the world the village boy managed to enter his garden? 

The boy is still sputtering as they walk, Minho still holding onto him by the back of his collar to make sure he doesn’t wander off either by accident or on purpose. He keeps a fairly brisk pace, mostly because someone else being in his garden— maybe even memorizing the twists and turns of the path, even just this far in— makes his stomach roll. 

Entrenched in thoughts of the garden suddenly wavering in its long-held enchantment that keeps others out, Minho ignores the frantic, nervous words spilling out of the stranger as he essentially drags him towards the fence, not bothering to waste his time processing what he’s saying. 

What he does finally process, however, is the young man going, “Oh! This is where I got let in!” 

Sure enough, it’s the iron gate closest to his cottage that’s wound in creeping ivy and hard to spot. Even if you were to notice the gate beneath all the ivy, it’s hard to imagine it even being a functional gate. Indeed, the gate is completely overgrown, vines and leaves interwoven and essentially locking it. 

“Is it going to do that thing it did earlier where it all untangles itself so the gate can open?” The stranger turns to look up at Minho, the anxiety in his voice ebbing away to reveal a curiosity that makes his words tremble not out of fear but out of anticipation. 

Minho clenches his jaw, still looking ahead. 

So the garden really did just unlock for this… whoever this village boy is. 

On cue, the ivy begins to unwind by itself as they approach, green twisting and turning as the enchantment that wards the garden allows passage through. Minho spares a glance at the boy, his eyes wide as he watches the gate unlock and swing open with a rustic creak. His mouth parts in awe, tearing his eyes away from the now open gate to look back at Minho. 

He startles as the boy’s eyes meet his, the tips of his ears inexplicably warm as he takes a half-step back without thinking about it, suddenly embarrassed to be caught looking at him even for a moment. The boy doesn’t seem to notice, his expression still painted with wonder as his dark eyes twinkle. 

“Your garden is incredible,” the boy says genuinely, hands clasped in front of him. The compliment— even just directed to his garden— makes Minho’s eyes widen. The boy seems to remember his situation then, pink dusting his cheeks as he tries to bow apologetically to Minho. He’s stopped before he can do it, however, by the tug of his collar as they both seem to remember that Minho’s still holding him there. His face colors even more, clearing his throat as he settles for bowing his head and rushing out the words, “I’m sorry again! I know it’s not my place to compliment it when I’m trespassing, but—” 

The word trespassing and the reminder of his hand gripping the back of the boy’s shirt collar brings Minho back to where they are as well. Gritting his teeth, he shakes his head and gives the stranger a little push outside of the gate. He stumbles forward, boots reeling underneath him as they kick up grass while he tries to find his footing. Minho jolts, blinking rapidly as he watches the young man stumble. He didn’t think he pushed him that hard— it’s not like he actually wanted to hurt the guy, he just wanted to get him out of the garden. The stranger is surprisingly light, even more than Minho guessed just by looking at him. A light breeze could probably knock him over. 

Still, Minho bites back: _Are you okay?_

The stranger trespassed, there’s nothing inherently out of line when it comes to him being a little rough with getting him out of the garden. Still, he can’t help but feel… kind of bad. 

Luckily the stranger finds his footing, blinking rapidly before straightening up. His hair is ruffled, tufts of brown sticking up in patches and making him look like a startled animal. To Minho’s quiet relief, he seems fine— and he doesn’t look that upset at the sudden push. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and despite Minho’s inherent distrust of other people, he does seem genuine. 

“Just… don’t do it again,” Minho finally settles on. 

The stranger’s eyes widen and this time he manages to bow for real, surprisingly deeply. Minho can’t recall anyone ever doing this to him before and despite himself, he feels the tips of his ears warm up again. “Of course!” 

“That’s— that’s enough!” Minho barks out, and the boy startles and stands up straight again. “You’re fine!” 

“Oh.” The stranger’s face deepens in color. 

“Just… just go home, alright?” Minho reaches up to touch one of his ears, rubbing the tip between two of his fingers and hoping the color doesn’t travel down to the rest of his face. He doesn’t know why the stranger’s getting to him so badly. “And stop going onto other people’s property just because you’re curious or whatever. Somebody else might not be as nice as me— witch or not.” 

“Right,” the stranger agrees, eyes dropping down to the ground in what Minho thinks might be embarrassment. 

Well, Minho thinks with some amusement, at least he does have some kind of humility and shame. 

“Um,” the stranger starts, lifting his gaze to look up at Minho again. His cheeks are still flushed red. “I don’t know if you were listening to me earlier, but by the way, my name is—” 

Minho shuts the gate in the guy’s face. By hand. 

As apologetic as the stranger seems, the last thing Minho needs is some villager getting cozy with him. 

And what a bizarre concept that is, since every villager he’s met up until now has been terrified or suspicious of him— often both. This stranger is something else. Outside of the reasonable fear of being petrified and being caught trespassing, he didn’t actually seem all that scared of Minho himself— or scared of the witch of the woods, Minho should say, because that’s what all the villagers are actually scared of. The witch. This guy, on the other hand, seemed… fascinated by the magic of the garden? 

Strange. Just… strange. 

Whatever. He doesn’t need to know the stranger’s name. He just needs him out of the garden. Minho likes his peace and quiet, he doesn’t need some village boy ruining that for him. 

A long moment passes as Minho just stares at the gate, watching as the ivy winds itself together and locks again just as he wills it to. Finally, footsteps in the crisp grass on the other side of the fence alert him to the stranger taking his leave. Minho sighs in relief. 

Just to be sure, Minho steps back inside and peaks his head out the window that faces out towards the long winding path leading up through the woods to the cottage. Sure enough, the stranger is making his way back down towards the village, his back to Minho. He walks slowly, hands tucked into his pockets. 

Suddenly he turns to look back, making Minho nearly jump out of his own skin as he essentially crumbles to the floor in an attempt to get out of the stranger’s line of sight while still being able to peek out the window. He doesn’t know why the idea of the stranger seeing him watching him is so mortifying to him, but that’s the last thing Minho wants right now. 

Luckily the stranger doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to the window— or the details of the cottage at all. It seems less like he’s scoping things out and more that he’s just looking, a strange expression on his face that Minho can’t quite pinpoint. After a moment, he turns around and begins his walk back down the path again. 

Minho breathes out a sigh of relief, getting to his feet and brushing his trousers off— careful to stand just outside the window’s line of sight, his back to the wall. 

He pauses as he notices Soonie sitting on the floor under his workbench staring at him with her wide eyes, and despite her being a cat, Minho can’t help but feel embarrassed knowing she’s seeing him act so weird. 

“What?” he says to her, and she blinks at him silently before turning away. Reaching up to touch his ears again, he mumbles, “That’s what I thought.” 

Once he’s sure the stranger is completely out of sight and presumably back down in the village, he makes his way out to the garden again and picks up the basket he left on the ground when he personally escorted the stranger out. 

Minho really cannot recall the last time he was so annoyed with someone, at least outwardly. Sure, the villagers can be grating. He’s also morally obligated to help them and tries his best not to agitate them both to make sure he doesn’t scare them off and for his own sake. The last thing he needs is a literal witch hunt. 

He shivers at the thought. Shiwon was always careful to protect him from stories of magic users being demonized and hurt— or even killed— but there was only so much she could do. He heard the stories of mobs and witch hunters turning against magic users they deemed out of line, especially as a child growing up with magic. The other kids made sure he heard them. 

So yes, it’s just better for everyone involved if he keeps his grievances to himself. 

But that stranger… well, he got a reaction from him alright. Minho’s a little embarrassed if he’s being honest. He really does pride himself in his ability to keep a calm and diplomatic demeanor even when the villagers bother him. But this guy— whoever the hell he is— smashed through that right away. 

Minho can really only think to blame this on the fact that the stranger was trespassing. He doesn’t think he was being unreasonable when he got agitated after realizing someone was in his garden. And speaking of the garden— yes, it absolutely doesn’t help that the stranger shouldn’t have gotten into the garden in the first place. He cannot wrap his head around it no matter how many times he keeps coming back to it. 

He didn’t feel any magic coming off of the young man. Maybe that’s not certain because of Minho’s limited exposure to other magic users, but he likes to think he’s at least good at sensing magic. And if there was no magic involved, that means it’s far more likely that the garden just... let him in for some reason. And the stranger just wandered in like a curious critter. 

What a strange fucking person. 

Minho spends the rest of the day working on the orders he has due— although he finds himself stumbling over steps that he knows by heart. He fumbles a bowl of herbs while finalizing the potion barely managing to catch it and only letting a couple pieces fall to the ground. He shoos Dori away with his foot when she tries to nab them, grumbling under his breath as he picks them back up. 

Frustrated, he doesn’t even bother staying up to spend time for himself and simply heads to bed early. Better to go to sleep now and wake up refreshed, thoughts of the garden and the strange villager with his curious eyes hopefully no longer hanging over him. 

\---

It’s a good plan, in theory. Wake up early and take some time for personal work— studying Shiwon’s journals, trying new spells and potions she’s written down that he’s never had the chance to try— and just take a breather. A nice, normal, relaxed day after the confusion of yesterday. A way to fall back into the familiar cycle he’s grown used to over the years. 

The problem with theories, Minho’s found in all his time of working with magic and experimenting on his own, is that sometimes theories don’t actually work out. In fact, sometimes the things he tries blow up in his face— literally, even. The downside of working with magic, which can be rather volatile when you don’t know what you’re doing. 

(There are pros to living isolated in the woods. When you accidentally singe your eyebrows off with magic, nobody but you and your cats have to know about it.) 

The plan to take time for himself blows up in his face at midday the next morning, the sun high in the sky as Minho weaves charms together at the table. His fingertips ache from the work and he’s reminded of just how much he hates making these kinds of charms. He hasn’t touched a majority of Shiwon’s notes on charms just because most of the ones she’s written about involve this process and Minho would much rather work with potions and incantations than this. 

The one he’s working on is relatively simple— an Everburning Charm. If hung above a fireplace, it will burn for a week before consuming whatever’s inside. He’ll be able to use it this winter— the cold doesn’t really agree with him and it’s a pain always going outside in the bitter chill to get firewood. He’d much rather hunker down in the cottage as much as possible and this charm will be good for that. Luckily the visitors he gets from the village always dwindle down to next to nothing in winter, which is a nice change compared to the rush of autumn as everyone and their mother make the trek up to the cottage to ask for magic before the cold sets in. Once winter hits, the long path through the woods up to the cottage becomes a pain to navigate. That’s fine. Minho usually spends winter enjoying the peace and quiet while working on his own studies. 

The shift from spring to summer is nowhere near as bad as autumn— or even earlier in spring when the villagers all swarm the cottage like flies after the snow has melted begging him for magic for their crops and animals— but he still gets at least one visitor a week. 

He’s not too surprised when someone knocks on the door. He’s not too upset either, honestly, as he sets down the charm he’s been picking away at for the past hour on the open journal and gets to his feet. It comes in three slow, almost timid knocks. It’s not the hasty ones he’s used to from the panicked villagers that usually visit him. 

Rubbing his fingertips together to try and get rid of the tingling in them as he walks to the door, he opens it without bothering to look through the little circle of glass on the door— and flinches back when the young man on the other side of it lifts his eyes up to meet Minho’s. 

They’re still just as wide and curious as yesterday, dark and sparkling and framed by ruffled brown hair as the two of them stare at each other, his lips parted. 

“You,” Minho says after a moment, the word coming out more accusatory than he means for it to. 

“Me?” the stranger agrees, the curious expression on his face shifting slightly as he offers Minho a nervous-looking smile. 

Taken aback, Minho lets his eyes wander down the frame of the stranger. He’s in a gray shirt, the sleeves puffier than the one from yesterday as if it’s a few sizes too big. The same trousers with worn knees, the same heavy work boots that look disproportionate to the rest of him. He holds a woven basket behind his back. 

“What are you doing here?” Minho asks because he thought all this business with the stranger was done yesterday when he threw him out of the garden. 

“Um…” The stranger awkwardly grinds the toe of his boot in the dirt, clasping the basket as he looks down at the ground. “I felt bad about going into your garden yesterday. I know I shouldn’t have even if I was curious. I’m sorry.” 

Minho can’t help himself from being taken aback. He doesn’t think he can recall a time when another villager ever apologized to him before— and this guy just won’t stop apologizing. He’d felt nothing but annoyance and confusion all of yesterday when he thought of this strange intruder, but the unfamiliar and unexpected response from him paired with how genuinely apologetic he sounds makes Minho waver. Unsure what to do, he finally says, “That’s… you know you already apologized, right? You’ve done it quite a few times now.” 

The stranger glances up at him now, cheeks flushed red at Minho’s words. “I just… wanted to make sure you knew. I’m honestly very sorry.” 

Minho clears his throat, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Squinting against the sun, he looks up at the sky and the cotton-like clouds drifting through the sea of open blue. There’s something about the way this guy looks at him with wide eyes that makes it hard for Minho to look back at him. “And like I’ve already told you. It’s fine. I forgive you. Just don’t go doing this again.” 

Sparing a glance at the stranger’s face for his reaction, Minho watches as his eyes somehow manage to go even wider before the stiff posture he’s held since Minho opened the door relaxes. It’s like he didn’t expect Minho to forgive him— or at least let him off the hook. Honestly, Minho doesn't blame him. He doesn’t know why he’s being so forgiving either— honestly, it’s something about how pitiful the boy looks. He’s like a puppy that’s been kicked. 

Which is still ridiculous because Minho is a cat person. 

“I won’t,” the stranger promises. 

“Good.” Minho looks between the stranger and the charms left unfinished on the table. Never before has he wanted to return to the tedious work of making charms so desperately. Puppy or not, the stranger being so personable on top of the issue of how he got around the enchantment of the garden in the first place makes Minho more than a little anxious around him. “So… if that’s all, I have work to do.” 

The other man startles like he just remembered something. “Oh! I, uh, wanted to apologize for yesterday.” 

“You just did,” Minho says dully. What is with this guy? Is he not being obvious enough that it’s over and he can go back home? He does have work to do, and frankly the uncertainty of this stranger— and why he’s being so nice— is making Minho increasingly uncomfortable again. “Many times.” 

“Well, yeah.” The face of the stranger flushes at Minho’s reminder, and this close to him without the panic of their first meeting, Minho can’t help but notice how full his cheeks are. He’d noticed it in passing yesterday when he gave him a once-over, but now he can clearly see the roundness of his face. It gives him a boyish look, something he seemingly hasn’t quite outgrown from youth. Minho’d pegged him for about his age before but now he’s sure that while the stranger is definitely close in age to him, he’s most likely a couple of years younger. “But I thought this might be better than some stranger’s words!” 

And with that, the young man lifts up the woven basket he’s been holding behind his back to show Minho, whatever the contents of it covered by a checkered red cloth. Minho simply stares at it in confusion. When the stranger seems to realize that Minho isn’t going to reach out and move the cloth or take the basket, he reaches up to move the cloth himself. 

They’re pastries, seemingly fresh by the look and smell. Minho blinks. 

After a moment, he points at them and asks, “Is this poison?” 

The boy’s eyes go wide, jaw dropping open. “What? No! They’re just— I just got them at the bakery! Why would you think they’re poison?” 

Minho shrugs, frowning as he glances between the basket and the stranger. Honestly, he just doesn’t understand what’s happening right now. A villager deciding his magic was too unnatural and bringing him poisoned treats seems far more likely than someone bringing him actual fresh pastries in Minho’s head. 

The flush that’s colored the boy’s cheeks drains away, leaving his face pale as he stares at Minho. “I would never— do you really think someone would poison you?” 

Minho simply shrugs again. He says, “People don’t like things that are different.” 

Something passes over the stranger’s face at that, blinking at Minho before biting down on his bottom lip. After a moment, he just says, “Ah.” 

They’re both quiet. The stranger still has the basket lifted up between them, his eyes settled on the pastries inside. The silence stretches on uncomfortably long, long enough where Minho starts to feel embarrassed. 

“Well, uh,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at where his charms and the journal lay on the table yet again. “If we’re done—” 

“You should take them,” the stranger insists once more, lifting his face to meet Minho’s gaze again. Something in his eyes has lit up now, his mouth settling into a friendly smile that contrasts so heavily with the quiet, unsure expression he wore just moments ago. 

Caught off guard by the sudden shift, Minho blinks rapidly at him. “I—” 

“You’re a witch,” the stranger says simply, and there’s not a single hint of fear or discomfort in his voice as he says those words. “You have magic. Lots of different kinds too. I bet you probably have some kind of… spell or potion or some other witchy nonsense that can test if something is poisoned, yeah?” He lifts the basket higher, pushing it out so it’s closer to Minho. “Just take them, okay? You can use your magic to check if I poisoned it, I won’t be offended or anything. I just don’t think my words are enough of an apology for trespassing in your garden, and I already spent money on these for you, and it would be a shame if they went to waste for both of us, right? And besides, I don’t think you leave the cottage very much, so it would be nice to have a treat for once!” 

The silence stretches between them, the only sound to birds in the trees and the buzz of insects. 

Minho stares at the stranger like he just sucker-punched him. Somewhere in the middle of his spiel— between the casual mention of Minho having magic and the insistence that he wouldn’t be offended if Minho used it to check if the pastries are poison— Minho’s mouth fell open. 

Never in his life has he had someone speak to him like this— at least, not a normal person. The only person who’s ever talked to him so casually about magic— much less kindly speaking to him in general— was Shiwon. 

If he’s being honest, his head feels a little bit like it does when he’s outside in direct sunlight for too long. Like a boiled egg. 

After a long moment of Minho gaping at the stranger like a fish, he closes his mouth and slowly takes the basket from him— because sure, why not at this point. This is all so baffling, why not take the basket? 

The stranger positively beams at him, face lighting up as his eyes scrunch into glittering crescent moons and his mouth splits into a blindingly full smile, the curves of his lips making it resemble a heart. “I’m Jisung, by the way!” 

Minho opens his mouth to answer, a soft puff of air leaving his lungs before he shuts it again embarrassingly fast. The way the other man is looking at him with that giant smile is making his brain feel like it’s turned to mush. There’s no reason for him to be shocked speechless by him, and yet— 

“Minho,” he forces out, voice creaking. 

Jisung blinks, still smiling. “What?” 

“Minho,” he repeats, clearing his throat. 

Jisung’s smile seems to widen even more like he honestly didn’t expect Minho to give him a name in return— which is fair since Minho can’t remember if he’s ever actually given his name to a villager before, not that any of them ever ask for it. Except for Jisung, apparently. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you! Properly, I mean. Not… like yesterday. I hope you enjoy the pastries.” 

Suddenly overwhelmed, Minho frantically looks back at the charms, fingers tightening around the handle of the basket until his knuckles whiten. “Uh, well— I have work to do now, so—” 

“Oh! No worries!” Jisung is still smiling at him. “Sorry for interrupting you, Minho.” 

He hasn’t heard someone else say his name in so long. It’s strange, especially when it’s said with the sweet, warm voice that Jisung uses when he says it. 

This is too much. This is— 

“Thank you,” Minho blurts out, and Jisung opens his mouth like he’s about to say something with that heart-shaped mouth of his and the little voice in Minho’s head goes, _no, oh no, that’s enough._

He closes the door in Jisung’s face. 

Complete silence settles over the cottage. 

It’s only after standing there utterly still staring at the door in shock that he realizes that he did, in fact, just slam the door in the face of someone who was extremely nice. Nice to the point where it freaked him out and overwhelmed him, but nice nonetheless. 

Shiwon would have definitely killed him for this. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, not quite sure himself if it’s meant for Shiwon or Jisung. He reaches up to touch his face only to flinch when he finds the skin there warm. 

Clutching the basket tightly, he peaks out the door through the peephole— and sure enough, Jisung has already begun to make his way back down the path, his back to the cottage. 

A strange sort of relief settles over Minho as he watches Jisung go, although he’s a bit embarrassed to admit it’s mostly because Jisung doesn’t seem too upset at having the door shut in his face. Instead, he walks with a sort of bounce in his step, not quite skipping but carefree enough that Minho doubts it’s the gait of someone who’s angry or sad. 

There’s no real reason to be worried about what Jisung thinks of him, whether or not he made him upset or not, but in spite of that, Minho can’t help but let out a deep breath and let his shoulders drop. 

He touches his cheek again, frowning at the warmth. 

“Maybe I’m getting sick or something,” he says, brow furrowing. It would certainly explain why he’s felt so all over the place the past two days. Hopefully not though, since the last thing he needs is to interact with the villagers when he’s come down with something. He can barely handle them when he’s healthy, he doesn’t want to think too hard about how limited his patience would be when he’s sick and miserable. 

Oh well. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Currently, there’s something much more pressing— something tucked neatly in the basket that he’s still holding with his other hand. 

He sets them on the table where he was working before being interrupted and half-collapses into the chair, slumping a bit in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at the innocuous-looking gift. 

He stares at the woven basket of pastries for a long time. For the life of him, Minho just can’t make sense of them or the stranger— Jisung, he thinks, turning the name over and over in his mind. There’s no reason for a villager to bring him treats. 

And they’re fresh! They even still seemed slightly warm when Jisung gave them to him, although they’ve cooled off now in the time he’s spent just staring at them. Fresh! That leads Minho to believe what Jisung said: that he bought them with the intention of giving them to Minho, which is absurd. He can’t even chalk it up to it being extras and him stopping by because he felt bad, there’s way too many in the basket. 

Frustrated and baffled, he gets to his feet and rifles through Shiwon’s journals and research notes until he finds one of her quick mixtures meant to test if something’s poison. He’s never actually made it before— he’s never had any reason to, he knows everything in the garden and nobody has ever given him anything before— but he mixes it up fairly quickly, hastily reciting the incantation she has scribbled down to finalize the magic swirling around in the mixture. 

Tearing off a piece of the pastry (his hands clad in leather gloves just in case) he sets it in a little bowl and drizzles the concoction onto it, waiting with bated breath for the sizzle of magical smoke to signal it’s poisonous. 

Nothing. 

Nothing happens. No smoke, no magic, no anything. Just a soggy piece of pastry sitting in a bowl. 

Minho genuinely cannot process the befuddlement he feels as he stares down at it. 

He cleans up after himself in a daze, standing in front of the woven basket again. He stares at it, brow creased. It just doesn’t make sense. It’s not poisonous. Jisung didn’t even press coming inside. He didn’t even seem too offended by Minho slamming the door in his face, even if he can admit that was rude and Jisung would probably have a right to be annoyed. 

The only explanation left that Minho can see as plausible anymore is that Jisung genuinely gave him fresh pastries out of the goodness of his heart as an apology for trespassing in the garden. 

That’s still more baffling to him than if the pastries had been poisonous. 

Suddenly feeling a bit weak in the knees, he takes a seat at the table again. This is all just… so strange. 

He breaks off a piece of a new pastry, not the one he defiled already with the concoction earlier. It comes off in a flaky chunk. It seems high quality, professional even, and that just solidifies Minho’s guess that Jisung did, in fact, buy these from the bakery down in the village. There seems to be blueberries baked into them. 

Slowly, Minho lifts the piece to his mouth and takes the tiniest nibble he can. It’s sweet. Still fresh, even if it’s cooled down. 

He can’t recall the last time he had fresh pastries, but whenever it was it was when Shiwon was still with him. 

“Fuck,” he blurts out, mostly because he wasn’t expecting to really like them. 

He stares at the rest of the pastry, suddenly very aware of the fact that he hasn’t eaten yet. He can’t even lie to himself and pretend he’s not hungry because his stomach immediately growls, traitor that it is. Soonie who’s curled up on the floor next to him looks up almost knowingly. 

It’s stupid how cats can make you feel judged, Minho thinks miserably. 

Well… what’s the harm? He’s run himself in circles convinced that these sweet treats are actually nefarious despite Jisung’s sunny disposition and earnest words— and his very own magic confirmed that not only are they perfectly fine, but he’s also stupidly paranoid. 

He has all these pastries. Jisung told him he could test whatever he wanted on them without feeling bad and he did. He may as well actually eat them, right? 

So he lets himself, devouring them in a frankly embarrassing timeframe. 

He tries his best not to meet Soonie’s eyes again as he does so. 

\---

Given the past two days, Minho can’t really say he’s too shocked when a knock on his door comes early in the morning the next day and he opens it to find Jisung on the other side of it. 

It seems like the boy is a recurring thing— a thorn in his side? No. Not… quite. Their initial meeting was extremely annoying and stressful, that’s true, but as much as it pains him to admit it their second one was relatively… pleasant? Not that it’s any less confusing to Minho or like he still doesn’t feel a little embarrassed by his own paranoia even after sitting on it for a day, but oh well. Maybe it’s better to say Jisung’s seems like the kind of flowers that come back every year all by themselves. 

So, no. Minho can’t say he’s shocked at all that Jisung is at the cottage again for the third day in a row. What he is a little shocked by is the difference in Jisung’s demeanor compared to the other two times they met. The first time they met, Jisung had seemed mortified when he realized wandering into the garden meant trespassing— regardless of whether or not the garden decided to open for him— and curious of everything around him in the same stride. Yesterday he’d seemed deeply apologetic and understanding of Minho’s distrust. 

Today, however, Jisung looks different standing in front of the cottage. His eyes are downcast, his shoulders stiff. He plays with his own hand, slightly lifted at his naval as he rubs the pads of his fingertips over each one of the fingernails on his other hand one by one. Jisung seemed animated the previous times Minho’s met him, talking with his hands and using wide gestures to make his points. Immediately Minho can tell that Jisung still has that intense energy, however, it’s like he’s holding it in. Less wide expressive gestures, more fidgeting. 

“So, we meet again,” Minho says slowly, frowning as he looks Jisung over. “I thought we were done after yesterday? What brings you back here?” 

Jisung glances up at him when Minho speaks, biting at his lower lip. He clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, sorry. It was supposed to be done, I know you’re probably sick of my face around here.” He laughs, the sound disjointed and off. “I’m really sorry.” 

“And there you go with the apologizing again,” Minho murmurs. 

Jisung's cheeks flush, opening his mouth before closing it again. Minho has a sneaking suspicion he was about to apologize for apologizing but thought better of it. Instead, he says, “I didn’t want to bother you again when you probably don’t like me all that much, but I kind of had to come here so I could ask you a question.” 

“A question?” Minho echoes. Maybe Jisung wanted to place an order for something enchanted? He hasn’t had a new customer in a long time— not while he was in charge of orders, anyways. All of the villagers who come to the cottage for orders are people who Shiwon worked with first and he inherited after he took over. 

And it wouldn’t be awful working with Jisung as a customer, he can’t help but think. At least Jisung doesn’t seem like he harbors the same fear-based disdain that the other villagers have for him. That’s a massive improvement, Minho thinks. In fact, it would immediately make Jisung his favorite customer. 

But no, that doesn’t explain why Jisung seems so fidgety and anxious. 

“Well,” Minho continues after a beat of silence, “what exactly did you come all the way here to ask me?” 

“I… did you find anything? Out in the garden, I mean.” Jisung shuffles his feet awkwardly, looking down at his worn boots again. 

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “There’s… plenty to find in the garden. What exactly do you mean?” 

Jisung clears his throat, still not looking up. “Something that isn’t supposed to be there. Something I, um, may have dropped on accident the other day when you were hurrying me out of the garden.” 

“No… I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.” He regards Jisung warily. “What did you drop? And how do you know it’s here?” 

“I don’t,” Jisung admits. “But I’ve backtracked all of today looking for it and this is the only place I haven’t checked. I only noticed it was missing last night, and by then it was too late to come calling, so… here I am now. If it’s not here, then I think I dropped it somewhere else and someone must have taken it.” 

His voice trails off quietly, the last words colored with an unexpected amount of distress. Whatever it is, it must mean a lot to him, Minho thinks. 

“But what is it?” Minho presses again. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what it is.” 

“A ring,” Jisung says, finally looking up at him. His bottom lip trembles slightly despite the way he immediately sets his jaw firmly, pressing his lips together as if to stop it. 

“A ring?” Minho echoes, eyebrows knitting together. For some reason he wasn’t expecting that as an answer. Maybe it’s a bit judgemental of him, but based on the way he presents himself— ruffled hair, worn clothes and boots, a streak of dirt across his cheekbone that Minho just noticed— Jisung doesn’t really strike him as the kind of person interested in jewelry. 

“Yes,” Jisung says firmly. His eyelids flutter shut and he takes a deep breath, seemingly forcing his shoulders to relax from the stiff position they’ve been in since they started talking. 

Whatever this ring is, losing it’s really put him on edge, Minho thinks absently. 

After a moment of calming himself down, Jisung opens his eyes again. “I know you said I’m not supposed to come into your garden again even if it lets me in or… whatever happened with the gate before. And I really do respect that! I fully admit I was in the wrong before. But this ring is something really important and if I lose it, I’ll be letting someone down.” Jisung clasps his hands in front of him before bowing his head slightly, squeezing his eyes shut again as he ducks his head down. “Please let me into your garden and let me search for it so I don’t let her down, Minho.” 

Her? Minho blinks rapidly as he looks at Jisung, caught off-guard by his serious tone and the flurry of words. 

“Uh.” Minho shifts awkwardly, shuffling his feet and reaching up to rub the back of his neck. It’s true that he’s still confused and unnerved about the garden reacting to Jisung the way it did and the idea of letting him back in makes him nervous, however, the way Jisung speaks is so unbelievably earnest and emotional that he can’t help but find himself being swayed. “Fine. But we’re going to be quick, alright?” 

Relief visibly comes over Jisung’s face, his lips parting into a small, unsure smile. “Thank you.” 

“Just… wait here,” Minho tells him, glancing at the boy before slipping back inside the house, partially closing the door but not enough for it to click into place. 

Minho plucks the brimmed hat off the rack near the door and places it on his head. The basket he was going to use to gather the ingredients for his studies today is already packed with his usual gardening equipment, having gotten it ready just minutes before Jisung knocked. 

Minho returns, stepping outside next to Jisung and shutting the cottage door behind him. Jisung lowers his face in what looks like shame. 

“I interrupted you when you were about to do something, right?” His voice is downright miserable. 

This kid just makes it impossible to be legitimately upset with him, Minho thinks ruefully. 

“It’s fine,” Minho says immediately. “I was about to head out into the garden anyway, so I’m just taking you the way I was already going. It’s not like you’re making me take you on some out of the way journey or anything.” 

Jisung nods slowly but doesn’t seem all that placated by Minho’s words. He seems far too down to really be swayed by them and Minho suspects he’ll probably be like this until he finds his ring again. 

A shame, he can’t help but think. He seems like a relatively upbeat person. It’s… kind of depressing seeing him like this. 

“Well, come on then,” Minho says, pointing at the garden gate. “I know you know what this is. Keep up, won’t you? Let’s go see if your ring’s here.” 

He leads Jisung through the iron gate, deciding against bringing him through the cottage. The gate opens easily for Minho despite its lack of use, and when Jisung lays a hand on the twisting leaves as they unknot themselves Minho half-expects the garden to knock his hand away or something. It does no such thing, instead one tendril curling almost playfully around Jisung’s fingers before slipping free and locking the gate into place. 

Weird. Just… weird. 

“So you followed me… not very far in, if I recall,” Minho says, staying a half-step ahead of Jisung but close enough where he can keep an eye on him. 

“I didn’t follow you,” Jisung corrects, his cheeks coloring slightly. “I just… I dunno. I don’t know how to explain why I went that way.” 

Minho raises an eyebrow, tracing back their steps from the other day. “There are a couple paths over this way, you know. They split up further in. The fact that you happened to come down the path I was on—” 

“I know,” Jisung acknowledges, still looking embarrassed as he follows Minho, eyes to the ground searching the grass. “It doesn’t look good. But I really didn’t purposefully seek you out or anything and I don’t have a good excuse for why I even entered in the first place, it’s just… it was compelling.” 

“Compelling?” Minho echoes, still trying his best to keep an eye on Jisung while watching for anything out of place. “What does that mean?” 

Jisung just shrugs. “Like I said, I don’t know. It’s just… a feeling in my gut. I don’t know how to rationalize it at all, or why I listened to it. But I’m here now, and I’m an idiot who dropped my ring because of it, so…” 

“You are… incredibly strange,” Minho settles on finally, because he’s not really sure what else there is to say. First the garden letting him in, liking him even, now he’s talking about feeling compelled or something. That’s not even getting into the strange behavior from before— that is, the odd kindness and the pastries. 

“I’ve been told that before,” Jisung says back, a hint of amusement in his voice that makes Minho’s eyebrows raise further. 

“By who?” Minho can’t help but scoff, letting his eyes fall to the ground. He doesn’t think Jisung has nefarious purposes or anything and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run off in the garden, so at least he can focus on the ring. “As far as I can tell, you look like a normal villager— beyond the breaking and entering into my garden, I mean.” 

Jisung just hums noncommittally. 

Minho rolls his eyes when he realizes Jisung’s not going to give an answer about why he’s supposedly strange to folks other than Minho, feeling a touch annoyed before he realizes how absurd that is. There’s no reason for him to care about what this village boy has to say, not really, so why is he annoyed he’s not keeping the conversation up? Honestly, Minho prefers the silence. 

Yeah. Absolutely. 

Anyways. Not his problem. 

They trace their way to where they first met, Minho frowning as he scans the area. If all else fails, he knows there’s a basic lost item spell written in one of the journals inside the cottage. That would mean Jisung staying around a little longer than he’s comfortable with, but it would at least be a clear answer to whether the ring is here or not if they can’t find it. 

He opens his mouth to tell Jisung just that when a small gasp leaves the other’s mouth, and Minho turns to watch Jisung scurry over to a patch of blueberries, and drop into a crouch, picking up what seems to be a small object off the ground where it was laying in the bush’s shade. 

“What? Did you find it?” Minho asks, coming over to Jisung’s side again. 

“Yes!” Sure enough, there in Jisung’s cupped hands is a little bronze ring. It’s nothing impressive or flashing save for what seems like faint etchings Minho can’t quite make out, but Jisung cradles it like it’s the most precious thing in the world. 

Minho regards Jisung curiously. “So, you have your ring back. Do you think she’ll be happy?” 

Jisung glances up at Minho and blinks at him for a moment before his gaze softens, eyes drifting back down to the little bronze ring in his hand. He looks at it with such unbelievable fondness, it leaves absolutely no question in Minho’s mind just how much this ring— and whoever she is and her opinion of him— means to Jisung. 

“I sure hope so,” Jisung says finally, his voice soft as he rolls the ring between his fingers, seemingly checking for any scratches or blemishes it might’ve sustained while laying out in the garden for two days. He sighs in relief, closing his fingers over where he holds it in the palm of his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with it either. I was so worried that even if I found it again, it would have dents or scratches or something… I’m lucky. I would’ve thought it’d have been moved by an animal or something. It’s a miracle I even found it in here.” 

_You find whatever you need in the garden._

Minho opens his mouth to speak as the gentle voice from his memory whispers in the back of his head. He shivers despite himself. 

It is a bit of a miracle the ring was found unharmed. There are enough curious animals in the garden with eyes for shiny things that Minho has to admit it’s strange that it was so easy to find. Surely one of them would’ve taken it? He knows for a fact there’s one bird in particular that makes its nest in the maple tree closest to the cottage that loves to swoop down and steal things Minho leaves laying out— he’s even lost one of his good gloves to the greedy little thing. 

The garden is a strange thing. Because of the enchantments placed on it, it’s almost a living creature itself. An entity with a will of its own— as Minho is discovering more and more these days. 

If Jisung finds his ring untouched where he dropped it against all odds, then maybe it’s because the garden wanted to make sure he found it. 

Minho isn’t entirely sure how he feels about that thought, but it doesn’t seem… bad. 

“Sometimes,” Minho starts slowly, eyeing Jisung as he stands, sliding the ring into the pocket of his trousers and patting it reassuringly to make sure it’s safe, “if you really need something, the garden does its best to give it to you.” 

Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth parting into a little O as his eyes dart from Minho’s face to the garden around them. “Really? Is that part of the magic spell or whatever that you cast on it?” 

“I didn’t cast anything,” Minho corrects immediately, maybe a little too harshly by the way Jisung flinches ever so slightly. He immediately feels bad. Jisung doesn’t know better, but the idea of having Shiwon’s work attributed to him makes Minho’s skin crawl. He takes a breath before he continues, schooling his tone into a more neutral, even one. “And it’s… complicated. The enchantment on this place is layered.” 

“Layered?” Jisung echoes, tilting his head slightly. 

“It’s not just one spell that was cast on this garden, there are several at play and that’s without even taking into account how long-lasting enchantments like this are more powerful than simple spells that last a few hours. Or that magic itself is almost a living thing, and when multiple different kinds mingle—” Minho cuts himself off when he realizes he’s talking too much, pressing his lips together firmly. Judging by the lost expression of Jisung’s face, even this much is too much for him. 

_And to think,_ Minho can’t help but muse, _I suspected he was a witch at first._

No, Jisung doesn’t know a thing about magic and Minho is willing to bet he doesn’t have even a single ounce of magic in him. 

Still, Minho clears his throat, reaching up to fix his hat so the brim covers more of his eyes and casts a shadow over his face in the hopes of hiding what he suspects is a blush, judging by the way his face feels warm— too warm even for a day on the cusp of summer like this. It’s a little embarrassing rambling the way he just did. He hasn’t done that before— not like he’s ever really had the opportunity to, not when everyone avoids talking to him and he tries his best to do the same. 

But there’s something about Jisung that makes him strangely easy to talk to. Maybe it’s because Jisung actually speaks to him without fear; often careful and polite with his choice of words, yes, but not with fear. Although in the few times they’ve met he’s slipped up and spoken casually more than once, but that’s not necessarily bad, Minho doesn’t think. 

Or maybe it’s just because Jisung doesn’t seem scared of him in the first place or that he doesn’t seem like he dislikes Minho at all. 

Either way, Minho’s not used to a person— a stranger, nonetheless— being so easy to talk to. He’s curt with the other villagers, keeping his words short just like they want. Just like he wants, frankly. But when Jisung speaks he feels the strange need to talk back to him even if he knows he could just ignore him. 

Jisung is just… something Minho doesn’t know how to process. 

Shaking his head, Minho sighs, taking a few steps back so he can look around at the garden around them and the place where the path splits in three, different plants growing on different routes. “It’s just more complicated is what I mean and we can leave it like that.” 

“Oh,” Jisung says, the confusion on his face disappearing only to be replaced with a smile. “Okay! Well, magic aside I really am grateful you let me in here again so I could find my ring. I really don’t know what I’d do without it.” 

Minho simply shrugs. “Yes, well. I would’ve maybe had a different answer if you didn’t come right when I was about to gather things from out here.” 

Probably not, actually. But it makes him feel more in control if he says that. 

For the first time since they entered the garden together, Jisung’s eyes fall on the little woven basket Minho has on his arm. A look of realization crosses his face. “Oh! I’m sorry. I got in your way. You didn’t have to help me look, you could’ve just… guided me while you picked whatever you want.” 

Fuck. He’s not wrong, actually. True, he wanted to keep an eye on Jisung, but once he decided he wasn’t a threat in the garden as far as he can tell, he could’ve at least started on his list. 

“Uh, it’s fine,” Minho says, reaching up to touch the back of his neck. “I’m really glad you got your ring back. But anyways, I do need to pick some things, so…” 

“Let me help you,” Jisung insists suddenly, his eyes brightening significantly, and despite his relatively positive shift in opinion towards Jisung— at least compared to before— Minho can’t help but physically recoil at the offer. 

“The garden isn’t like a farm,” Minho says curtly. “It’s a living thing, sustained by magic. You can’t just go picking things without care.” 

“Then I won’t do it without care,” Jisung says earnestly. “I genuinely want to help you. I feel like I really need to make this whole ring business up to you— I inconvenienced you and everything again.” 

“It… wasn’t that big of a deal,” Minho says slowly. It wasn’t. He had his reservations about letting Jisung into the garden again after the mystery of how he was able to enter in the first place, but in the end it was relatively painless. Just trace back Jisung’s steps when he was first here and there it is, clear as day. Simple. 

“Still,” Jisung insists, taking a step closer to Minho. Minho doesn’t step back, simply raises an eyebrow at him. “You were in the middle of getting ready to do something out here and I distracted you. The least I can do is help you finish.” 

“I don’t know if you’d be any help at all— and before you give me puppy dog eyes, I’m not saying that to be mean. The garden responds to magic.” To prove his point, Minho leans down and plucks a white daisy from where a cluster of them spring up from the ground, roots and all. He picks it with the ease of someone completely at home in the garden, no worries of harming any of the things that grow in it. Jisung leans closer when Minho stares pointedly down at the place he pulled the flower from. Before their eyes, a small green sprout pushes up after a few moments. 

“Wow,” Jisung says softly, his voice breathy as he stares in awe. “How long will it take to grow back?” 

Minho gingerly places it in the basket he holds. He picked it to prove a point but he won’t let it go to waste. He’ll find some use for it. “It depends on what’s picked and how much is picked at the same time. If that was the only thing I picked, it would grow back in an hour. Since I’ll be gathering other things, the garden has to spread it’s magic out to recover more. It’ll most likely take a day or two. Daisies are small and don’t take much to grow back.” 

“Amazing,” Jisung murmurs. 

“Mmm,” Minho hums. “So… you see? I don’t even know if someone without magic could work with the garden in the way you need to.” 

“Oh. Alright.” There’s genuine disappointment in Jisung’s voice, and for some reason Minho wasn’t expecting that. He really does seem like he wants to help. 

Minho… kind of feels bad. 

He shouldn’t. It’s absolutely his right to say no. But the way Jisung’s shoulders droop suddenly, the tone of his voice— yeah, Minho feels a bit guilty and he can’t even figure out why. 

“If you want,” Minho says slowly, the words feeling like molasses on his tongue, “you can stay with me while I pick what I need. I don’t have a lot and it’s all fairly close to where we are right now, and that way I can see you out.” 

Jisung’s face immediately lights up again, mouth parting in shock before settling into a funny, strangely… endearing open-mouthed smile. “Really?” 

Minho coughs, glancing away from the sunshine expression on the other’s face and ignoring the strange sensation at the tips of his ears. “If you follow closely and don’t bother me, then yes.” 

So Minho does his usual route through the garden, careful to make sure Jisung doesn’t wander in his excitement. He realy doesn’t think there’s anything bad about Jisung— and even his gut is telling him that now— but still, it’s probably best not to let this stranger get lost in his enchanted garden. 

Jisung, for his part, does just as Minho asks him to. He follows him closely, always a step or two behind without crowding Minho too much. He talks… a lot. More than Minho was expecting. It’s mostly just observations about the garden and all the plants inside of it, comments about how he’s never seen all of these things grow together at the same time. Minho doesn’t respond much, mostly because he doesn’t really think Jisung's looking for actual answers. He just hums in response as he works, making sure to glance out the corner of his eye at the one wandering after him chatting nonstop. 

Minho gathers everything he can until finally all that’s left is the patch of roses near the cottage that sit on one of the other paths Jisung didn’t go down before. 

Jisung gasps when he sees it— a patch of sunlight making the petals glow, the roses strangely ethereal. It’s a splash of vibrant color contrasting the rest of the green garden, reds and whites that pop against it like paint on a palette. It’s not very big, but it doesn’t have to be when the garden grows everything back, and Minho’s relatively modest about what he picks. 

“There’s so many colors here,” Jisung says breathlessly, padding past Minho so he can approach the rose bushes. He leans down, reaching out to delicately brush his fingers across the petals of a small pink rose tucked under a patch of leaves. 

“There are more towards the back,” Minho explains, coming up next to Jisung and tilting his head, catching sight of an apricot-colored rose between a pair of red ones. The garden’s even known to grow a strange, deep purple rose that’s almost black. Not very often, but Minho always finds himself a little giddy when he spots one. “The garden just grows red and white roses the most. Probably because they’re the most commonly called for in recipes.” 

“Wow,” Jisung says under his breath, still gently fingering the petals, careful not to disturb them too much. Suddenly he looks up at Minho, an excited look on his face. “Did you know different colored roses mean different things?” 

Minho blinks, taken aback. “What?” 

“There are people who can convey complicated messages entirely through flower arrangements,” Jisung explains excitedly. “Because each flower has its own meaning, and sometimes different colors of the same kind of flower mean different things too. Roses, especially.” 

“That sounds… complicated,” Minho says slowly, frowning a little to himself because despite how bizarre Jisung’s words are, he does have to admit the concept sounds vaguely familiar to him. 

“Oh, it is,” Jisung agrees. “It’s meant to be subtle. Secret ways to confess your love, or send messages to your lover, or insult someone… anything, really.” 

“Uh-huh.” Minho continues to look at Jisung. 

After a moment of silence, a red flush comes over Jisung’s face, his lips pressing together tightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble. I just think that’s fascinating, and— well, I’ve never seen so many roses at once before. They don’t really grow around here, so I usually just see them around town in bouquets.” 

Strange, that. He knows Jisung must be telling the truth but that concept is so foreign to Minho now. The idea of some kind of flower not growing nearby. He hasn’t had to worry about that in years, not since before he came to the garden. If he ever wants to see a flower, all he has to step outside. Sure, there are some exceptions— there are some particularly exotic flowers he’s only read about because they grow in conditions even the garden can’t mimic despite being extremely versatile, but those things are outliers. 

And it’s not like he was annoyed at Jisung talking about the flowers. It’s just… strange. It’s all so strange, there’s really not a word Minho can think of that describes everything about it better. He’s not used to someone talking to him so much, much less excitedly telling him about something they have an interest in that he doesn’t know about. 

He didn’t dislike it. It’s just… weird to him. 

Jisung clears his throat. “Anyways. These are the last things you needed to pick, right?” 

Minho hums in confirmation, eyes drifting between Jisung and the roses. Admittedly, there’s nothing stopping him from getting right down and picking the roses he needs himself. It’s easy. And everything he said earlier was true— he doesn’t know if the garden will actually respond to someone without magic picking things from it, even if that someone seems to be a person the garden otherwise likes for some unknown reason. 

But hearing Jisung talks about the roses and flowers the way he did, there’s a little part of Minho that’s thinking about the way Jisung’s shoulders slumped when Minho told him he couldn’t help. 

And besides, Minho’s always been a curious man. Cautious, but still curious. 

“What you mentioned earlier,” Minho starts slowly, eyes going back to Jisung, who’s now staring down at the pink rose he’s still balancing on his fingertips, “about helping me harvest things from the garden? Would you like to try on a couple of these roses?” 

Jisung blinks rapidly, looking back up at Minho in confusion. “But you told me I couldn’t.” 

“I said I wasn’t sure if the garden would respond to you magically,” he corrects. “But… I admit, I am a bit curious. And there are enough roses here that even if the garden has to grow the roses you take back normally instead of magically, it won’t be a great loss to me.” 

“You really don’t have to force yourself to let me do something you’re not comfortable with,” Jisung says quickly. “I know I was a little… well, anyways, it’s your right to turn me down on helping you.” 

Well… there’s further confirmation that Jisung is just a nice person, Minho supposes. 

Still. He does want to know what will happen. 

“I changed my mind,” Minho tells him, reaching into his basket and picking out the silver scissors nestled among the picked greenery. He holds them gingerly out to Jisung, expression blank as the boy looks up at him, “I want to see what happens.” 

After a moment of hesitation, Jisung takes them from him. “What do I cut?” 

“A red and a white,” Minho tells him, settling his hands on his hips. “Careful of the thorns.” 

Jisung reaches out and gently touches the underside of the red rose closest to him, the hand holding the scissors hover a few inches down the stem. “Um, are you really sure—” 

“Do it now or I’ll take them back and kick you out,” Minho says irritably, and Jisung makes a little noise before snipping at the stem. The rose falls into the palm of his hand, fingers careful to stay away from the thorns. “See? Now do the white one.” 

Jisung listens obediently, snipping a white rose and placing both of them in Minho’s basket. After a moment of silently staring at the rose bush, Jisung looks back up at Minho. “Is that it? Did I mess it up?” 

“Bush flowers don't tend to grow back as fast,” Minho explains. “Like I said, this was because I was curious.” 

“Oh,” Jisung says. 

Clearing his throat, Minho adds, “You can take that pink rose as well.” 

Jisung tilts his head to the side. “Oh, do you need one of those too?” 

Minho glances away. “No. You just… seemed to like it. You can take it for yourself if you want.” 

Jisung’s face immediately splits into a blindingly warm and bright smile. 

It’s so weird, Minho thinks as he watches Jisung delicately snip the pink rose from the bush, to have someone look at him like that. Not even just once— Jisung’s looked at him with warm expressions quite a few times today. After years of icy stares and pointedly dropped gazes from everyone he’s come in contact with, it’s incredibly jarring to have someone look at him like that. 

Jisung’s hands are surprisingly dexterous as he dethorns the stem, getting to his feet again and smiling happily down at the flower in his hand. After a moment of thought, he tucks it into the pocket of his trousers, the soft petals sticking out a sharp contrast to the rather dull brown and white he wears. 

“Thanks,” Jisung says as he turns that smile on Minho again, and he sounds sincere and… touched, maybe? 

Minho clears his throat again, turning away. “Right, well. It’ll grow back— either in the next couple of days or at a natural pace. It’s not a big deal. Anyways, we’re done here. So I’ll see you out.” 

And with that he takes off down the path, his pace a little brisker than he intends as he reaches up with his free hand to touch the tip of his ear, strangely warm to the touch. The pad of a second pair of footsteps echoes behind him and soon Jisung is beside him, matching his steps but one back so Minho’s still leading. 

Minho half expects him to start chattering like before, but instead Jisung just hums softly as he walks, arms swinging slightly. It almost seems like there’s a slight bounce in his step. 

It seems like almost no time at all before they’re back in front of the iron gate again— although maybe Minho’s quick pace has something to do with that. Still, the two of them slow down in front of it, Minho turning to look at Jisung. 

After a moment of just looking at each other, Minho finally offers, “I’m glad you found your ring.” 

“Thank you for letting me in to look for it,” Jisung says, a genuine look of appreciation on his face. Then he reaches down and gently touches the petals of the pink rose nestled in his front pocket and adds, “And thank you for this. It’s beautiful.” 

“Right. Well… like I said. It’s not a big deal.” Then Minho glances over at the gate, reaching a hand out towards it. Before he even makes contact, the vines begin to swirl and unlock, the gate swinging open as if it can read his mind. 

“Are you going to close the door in my face again?” Jisung asks suddenly, a little smile on his face. 

Minho flinches, quickly turning his face away from Jisung like he’s inspecting the creeping ivy on the cottage wall. He’s not sure Jisung exactly buys it, but what matters is that he hopefully won’t be able to see the embarrassed blush starting at Minho’s ears and spilling out onto his cheeks. 

“Well, it’s not my fault you keep overstaying your welcome,” he says. 

Jisung laughs at that, ringing through the quiet garden and making Minho jump and turn to look at him again. Jisung is smiling, seemingly not taking offense to Minho’s comment. “Alright, alright. Yeah, maybe so. Still, are you going to make it a habit to close things in my face or am I getting off the hook easy today?” 

“Depends,” Minho says, “if I have to throw you out today or if you go willingly.” 

Jisung laughs again. “Alright, alright. I get it. Don’t worry, I’ll go willingly.” He ducks his head slightly, taking a few steps outside the garden before turning back to look at Minho. He’s still smiling, this time with a note of apology in it. “Sorry again. I really promise I’m trying not to bother you on purpose.” 

“I… don’t think you are,” Minho admits, and a look of relief crosses Jisung’s face. 

“Good. I don’t actually like being a nuisance.” And then the smile is back, genuine as ever. “Well, I’ll be going now. See you.” 

Jisung raises a hand in farewell, and just like that he’s gone, walking off down the path to the village, leaving Minho staring after him for much longer than he probably should before he finally closes the garden gate. 

When he checks back in the garden the next day, he’s not sure if he’s actually surprised or not. 

Sure enough, roses have begun to grow back in the place where Jisung picked them. 

Dumbfounded, Minho crouches down on the ground and extends a hand towards them, fingers gently brushing against the freshly sprouted buds. There really… he doesn’t know how Jisung did this. Minho truly doesn’t believe Jisung has even a sliver of magic in him, so the concept of the garden responding to a non-witch… 

Maybe he shouldn’t be shocked at this point. The garden already decided to let Jisung enter despite the enchantments specifically designed to keep other people out, who’s to say what else the garden will do? 

Why in the world does the garden like him so much? 

Minho shakes his head. This is all so bizarre. 

\---

The trees by the river are beautiful this time of year, their branches graced with sweet-smelling pink-white blossoms that bloom only for a few weeks in the shift before spring to summer before disappearing. Their fragrance is sweeter than any flower Minho's ever seen before and much more prominent. In fact, he can smell them all the way from the cottage when he steps outside. He never needs to wonder if they're in bloom, just sticking his head out the window tells him. 

Minho rarely leaves the cottage and its sprawling garden. There's really no reason to, after all, not when the garden is self-sufficient. All the flowers and plants he could ever need for his studies and craft grow right in the garden. Fruits and berries, vegetables; those as well. If he's really, truly in need of something, he can simply agree to a trade with one of the villagers that come to him for his magic. His services are cheap, just as Shiwon's were, and not done with the goal of wealth. He's here to help, all he asks in return is the villagers bring him simple items that the garden wouldn't be able to get him. 

He has little need for money anyways, seeing as he doesn't leave the cottage much at all to begin with. 

There is one exception, and that's when the trees by the river bloom. 

So when he steps outside before noon and the familiar floral scent floats in on the breeze as he stretches in the late spring sunlight, he can't help the soft smile that pulls at his mouth. 

There's not much to do today anyways. He's between orders and has mostly just been spending his days studying Shiwon's books and experimenting with spells and enchantments he hasn't gotten the chance to try out yet. He can do that any time he wants, but the blossoming trees only happen for a brief time once a year. 

So he steps back inside and changes his clothes. Something nicer than his usual wear for working in the garden. He plucks a long white jacket from the closet, it's fabric thin and embroidered with delicate cream flowers on the hems of the sleeves. He pulls it on over one of his nicer shirts and a pressed pair of trousers. 

He takes the wide-brimmed sunhat from off the hook by the door and sets it on his head with a smile. He doesn't really have much opportunity to dress up, but this is the one day he puts in the effort. Maybe it's a habit carried over from his time with Shiwon when she'd take him to see the blossoms with her in their finest, but it just feels wrong for Minho to go see them without his nice clothes on. 

He rustles around until he finds a large woven basket packed in the corner behind his bookshelves in the main room, covered in old notebooks. He gingerly removes them and sets them back on the shelves where they belong. He doesn't usually have much use for this, thus the burying, but he feels a bit bad that he apparently treats it so poorly. 

He brushes it off and stuffs it with a blanket at the bottom before fetching a second cloth and lightly draping it over the top. Satisfied with his work, he turns to survey the cottage. 

"Soonie!" he calls, and on cue, the ginger feline comes running from his bedroom before hopping up onto the table where the basket's sitting and looking up at him with expectant eyes. He holds his hand out to her and she immediately nuzzles against him, insistently butting harder into his hand for more pets. He coos at her, "Soonie... Soonie... you know what time it is, right?" 

Soonie blinks up at him, her tail curling into a question mark. 

He pulls the cloth back on the basket, showing her the padded inside. "You want to come see the flowers with me, Soonie?" 

Soonie doesn't need to be asked twice. As soon as the cloth is pulled back she's stepping inside, circling and circling before plopping down and making herself comfortable. 

He watches her fondly as she kneads the blanket contently. "There we go. Good girl." 

He hunts down Doongie and Dori before he leaves and presses kisses to their heads and scratches under their chins, whispering to them that him and Soonie will be back soon. As much as he loves all three of his cats, Doongie is too much of a lazy old man to enjoy going on a walk down to the river. On the flip side, Dori has far too much energy for him to feel comfortable bringing her outside the garden. Soonie is the only one with the perfect temperament for it. Docile enough where she'll stay in the basket without jumping out, curious enough where she enjoys the change in scenery. 

With the other two seen to, he tucks the cloth back over the basket, leaving just enough exposed where Soonie can poke her head out if she wants, and sets off down the path leading from the cottage. 

It's funny. He's so used to watching other people come and go up and down the forest path, but he always forgets exactly how long it is. Mind you he usually only makes the trip once a year to see the blossoms, but still. 

It's barely even a path, really. There aren't any stones or stairs, just a winding dirt path worn by the boots of the villagers the make their way to the cottage and back. Trees and bushes enclose either side, leaving little room. 

It's alright. Nobody ever makes the trip to the cottage with someone else, just as nobody ever leaves the cottage with company— at least, not anymore. It's just how it's always been. 

He tilts his head up as he walks, watching the way the thick emerald leaves obscure the clear sky. Bits of sunshine slip through the branches, dappling the path before him with light. 

Birds sing above him, darting from tree to tree. Soonie pokes her head out of the basket to watch them with sharp eyes, clicking up at them. Minho watches her with amusement. As much as he loves his sweet little roommate, he often forgets she's a predator. 

Easy to do when this vicious predator gets fed by hand every day. 

Still, she doesn't jump out of the basket to make good on any of the clicking noises. Eventually, the noises themselves stop as the trail begins to open up again after a good twenty minutes have passed. 

They aren't completely out of the forest yet, but they've reached the main path. It's an actual path now, not the glorified deer trail up to the cottage. Dark gray stones have been inlaid into the forest floor, the clearing opening in three other directions. There are signs marking the different paths on the crossroads; one points towards the village itself, another points for the way onto the nearby town, and the final one points towards the Sweet River— named for the blossoms that grow on the trees this time of year, even if it's a bit on the nose. 

The path to the cottage is pointedly unmarked. If anyone were to pass through the crossroads without knowing about the witch in the woods, they'd likely think it was a simple deer trail. 

Adjusting his hat so it covers his eyes more in anticipation of the more direct sunlight, Minho sets off down the river path. 

It's far more open. The trees on either side of the stone road aren't nearly as close and there's nothing but blue sky above him. The sweet smell of blossoms is strong on the breeze, signaling he's close. 

Sure enough, ten minutes later the forest gives way entirely to the river. It curls through the open fields, its water sparkling like precious jewels in the high sun. Pale blossomed trees dot the riverbank, the breeze carrying petals knocked loose like summer snow. 

Minho walks forward slowly, taking in the picture before him. A couple of farmhouses can be seen on the other bank of the river, the closest one just a ways down from the wooden bridge near where the forest path lets out. 

He walks past the bridge, tracing a familiar path to a cluster of blossoming trees and the shady area beneath them. He likes this place best, always has. 

Setting down the basket, he gently lifts the cloth off and clicks his tongue. Soonie hops out, tail curling as he pulls out the blanket at the bottom. Soonie wanders but never far, the furthest she ever gets is the edge of the cluster of trees. 

He spreads the blanket out over the grass before sitting down, a content smile as he reclines on he elbows and tilts his head up to watch the blossoms sway in the wind. 

It's true that Minho rarely leaves the cottage, but he thinks stepping out of his haven even for just one day a year is worth it for this. 

After taking a moment simply to take in the warm, sweet atmosphere, he reaches over for the basket to find the other thing he packed inside of it— a book. Not the usual notebooks and journals he pours over in all his free time, but a novel. 

It's a silly story, really. A little tale of a noble and a thief that fall in love and run away together. It's cheesy and littered with things like true love's kiss and a happily ever after to tie things up. There's nothing especially intellectually stimulating about it, nothing that challenges worldviews or teaches a moral. 

Still, Minho's read it cover to cover more times than he can count. It's comforting, although he can't particularly explain why. 

So he flips open the worn novel to the first page, the scrawling words opening the way all fairytales seem to do with 'once upon a time'. 

It's mindless to him. He knows every word by heart. He tries his best to pace himself but it's hard when he knows everything about it. It's not very long and he tries his best to stretch it out as long as he can every year, but he really can't help himself from devouring it like a starved man. 

In the midst of the two protagonists meeting in the garden at night to profess their love to each other, a shout breaks the cozy silence of the riverbank. 

Minho's head snaps up from the book, eyes darting around for the source. Beside him, Soonie sits up from where she's curled up against his side as well, her ears twitching. 

It doesn't take him long to find who shouted— mostly because another shout comes again. On the other side of the river, three young men walk down the stone path leading down from the nearest farmhouse. More specifically, one of them is walking slightly ahead while the other two follow him, talking to the one upfront in words Minho can't quite make out. The one in front doesn't reply, just pointedly ignoring them while walking briskly. That's not the most curious part of the whole scene, however, as the closer to the bridge the three get, the clearer their faces become. 

"Jisung," Minho says, the name slipping out without much of a thought as he stares at the figure. 

And his eyes aren't tricking him, because the boy upfront is unmistakenly the same as the round-faced, unnervingly sweet villager who accidentally entered the garden two weeks ago. His outfit even seems much the same; off-white shirt, worn trousers, and oversized work boots. 

Maybe he's out with his friends to see the blossoms as well, Minho thinks as he watches them— watches Jisung, really, because he doesn't have much interest in the other two. It's a nice day and the trees being in bloom only make it more beautiful. It's not unheard of for him to spot other people near the river when he comes down from the cottage for the blossoms, although they always keep more than their fair share of distance from him when they realize it's him. 

Except the closer the three boys get to him, Minho can't help but notice the expression on Jisung's face. When he'd visited the cottage before, he'd been nervous and apologetic. When Minho showed him even an ounce of kindness, Jisung's face had lit up, his mouth split into a blinding smile. 

The look Jisung wears now is far from any of the ones he wore when he was at the cottage. Now Jisung's eyebrows are pulled together, his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes are unmoving as he walks, his shoulders stiff with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. 

This... does not seem like the timid but friendly villager he'd met before. Instead, Jisung seems to be trying to separate himself from the two trailing him. 

They’re closer now, the words they say clearer to Minho as the other boys follow Jisung as he makes his way towards the bridge. 

"—Not like you have anywhere to go, right? So what's the big deal?" The taller one grins as he quickens his pace, catching up to Jisung and rather roughly bumping his shoulder into his. 

Jisung stumbles a bit before catching himself, pressing his lips even tighter. He still doesn't respond, just keeps walking. 

No, Minho thinks warily, there's nothing friendly about this at all. 

Seemingly annoyed by the lack of response they're getting, the shorter of the two boys, shoves himself onto Jisung's other side. "Hey, dumbass. Are you listening to us?" 

"You really should," the other insists, and the two of them walk so tightly shoulder-to-shoulder with Jisung that Minho's baffled he hasn't shoved them off yet. "I mean, you are staying in my father's loft, right? That means you're completely reliant on us. If you don't want to have a little fun with us, I could always let it slide to my parents that we caught you stealing eggs, and then— well, you'd be out of luck and a place to stay, huh?" 

Jisung immediately stops in his tracks, so suddenly that the two boys flanking him actually take a few steps past him before they realize and stop too, turning back to face him. They're standing on one side of the bridge now, barely thirty feet from Minho. None of them have noticed him, the three of them too swept up in what's happening between them. 

"I didn't steal anything," Jisung says finally, his voice low but firm. 

"Oh, but how are they supposed to know that?" The tall one shrugs. "It's your word against ours and I think we all know how that will end up. And if you're kicked out for stealing after my family graciously took you in and let you stay in the barn with the other animals—" Jisung's jaw clenches. "—then who's going to want to let you stay with them, no matter what work you agree to do? You're already the loser that leeches off everyone else, being a thief would just be the nail in the coffin for everyone else here." 

Minho sets the book down on the blanket, grinding his teeth as he watches. He doesn't get involved with the villagers. What they do down here is their business, not his. The only thing that concerns him is whatever they ask for when they come up to the cottage. Anything else? He stays out of it. 

Still, watching the way these two corner Jisung is starting to make Minho's blood boil. He shouldn't care so much, right? But the look on Jisung's face as they speak— the way it keeps shifting to an increasingly complicated mix of fear, anger, and hurt— makes it hard to just sit here. 

Jisung just stares at them for a moment, his eyes hard. Finally, he says, "I haven't done anything to you to deserve this." 

The tall boy grins, reaching out to settle a hand on Jisung's shoulder. Jisung doesn't move a muscle, obviously aware of the position he's in. "Oh, it doesn't matter. You can be useful, so why not take advantage of it?" 

"Because it's not right!" Jisung's voice raises for the first time since Minho noticed the three of them, his face flushed red. His hands are still shoved into his trouser pockets but Minho would bet anything they're clenched hard into fists where the other boys can't see them. 

The shorter boy shakes his head and scoffs. "Oh, it's not right. I see." 

The hand on Jisung's shoulder tightens as the tall one speaks again. "It doesn't matter. What the hell are you gonna do? Run and cry to your mommy?" Something in Jisung's face twists, the expression a mix of too many emotions at once. The other boy laughs. "Oh, that's right. No, huh? Mommy and Daddy are dead after all." 

"I—" Jisung starts, his entire face red as he drops his eyes down to his feet. 

"Jisung!" 

The sound of his own name makes him freeze, his mouth hanging open. The other boys' heads whip around to look at where the voice came from. Jisung slowly raises his eyes again, meeting Minho's from across the river. 

Minho stands straight, his sunhat taken off his head and held under his arm as he stares at the three of them. Trying his best to keep the anger out of his voice, he calmly asks, "Are your... friends giving you any trouble?" 

"Mind your business," the short boy spits out, obviously annoyed that they were interrupted right as they started to get somewhere with Jisung. 

"Minho?" The name comes out breathless from Jisung, his eyes wide as he stares at Minho like he's convinced he's an illusion. 

The short one takes a couple of steps over the bridge as he speaks, glaring at Minho. "Look, we're just talking with our friend, okay?" 

"I heard," Minho says, still holding his ground from his place under the trees. The flush on Jisung's cheeks seems to deepen at Minho's words, his gaze lowering once more— almost in shame that Minho heard their conversation. Minho crosses his arms over his chest. "Quite a chat, really. Do you two make a habit out of strongarming innocent people into doing things for you?" 

"Hey—" 

Minho shifts his gaze from Jisung for the first time, eyes cold as he looks at the two bullies. That shuts the short one up, voice stuttering and falling to silence before he even gets to his second word. Ugly little brats, he thinks with disgust. And one of them looks familiar. 

"You," Minho says, pointing at the taller one. 

The boy stiffens. "Me?" 

"Your father raises horses, right?" Minho lowers his hand, tilting his head slightly as he continues to stare at the boy, who shifts uncomfortably under Minho's sharp gaze. "Big scar across his cheek where his beard doesn't grow?" 

"Do you work with him?" He suddenly looks extremely uncomfortable, no doubt thinking he just got caught being nasty by one of his father's business associates. Nevermind that Minho looks out of place in his lacy white coat or that they've never seen him before— the fear of offending someone his father knows who could tattle on him must outweigh any observations about Minho's appearance. 

Minho hums thoughtfully. "You could say that. By the way, your family has a horse that runs with the messenger to the next towns over, yes? Fastest horse in the region, he says." 

Warily, the boy nods. "Why?" 

"Oh, just making sure." Minho smiles at them then, watching as the boys both recoil like he's a wolf baring teeth. "I'm sure you must know all about the vitality charms he hangs on the mare's saddle then, right?" 

The blood visibly drains from the boy's face, his eyes going wide. "That's— how—" 

The short one looks up at him in confusion. "How's he know about the charms?" 

The tall one simply gapes at Minho like a fish before finally choking out the word, "Witch." 

Minho sighs, shaking his hat before placing it back on his head and adjusting it. "Took you long enough. Not very bright despite how much you talk. I don't exactly look like a merchant or anyone who works with horses, do I?" 

He raises an eyebrow at them. Both their faces pale as snow, they rapidly shake their heads no. 

"Thought so," Minho says, half-amused despite the rage still boiling under his skin. "Anyways, you and your little friend are quite the budding bullies, aren't you? Nobody's ever taught you that you reap what you sow. Funny that, considering you live out on the farmlands." 

"What does that mean?" the short one blurts out, glancing nervously between Minho and his friend. 

Minho shrugs with his whole body, holding his arms out on either side of him. "Oh, I'm just thinking. I'm sure your father wouldn't be terribly happy if he came to pick up a new charm for his prize horse and I had to turn him away because his son was being a vile little creature to someone who didn't deserve it." He lowers his arms then, steeling his gaze as he looks at the shaken boy. "And make no mistake, I only help those who don't cause harm to others. If he's raised you to think something like this is acceptable at all, especially at your age, then that's hardly someone I want to work with." 

Panic crosses the boy's face, voice frantic as he says, "Wait! Wait, no— don't tell my father! I'll stop!" 

Minho tilts his head, frowning deeply. "Not just now." He nods to Jisung, still frozen in shock staring down at his boots behind the other two boys. "Leave him alone from now on. If I hear even a whisper of you bothering him anymore, your father will be turned away at the door next time he visits my cottage." 

The boy stutters for a few moments, clearly not used to having someone put him in his place, before he nods frantically. "Y-yes!" 

"Oh," Minho says, more like an afterthought as he picks a piece of dirt from under his nail with his thumb. "I wouldn't suggest talking to anyone about this. I really am quite picky about who I work with after all." When the boys continue to stand there in shock, Minho looks up at them again, giving them a hard stare that makes them both flinch. "Well? What are you still doing here? Shoo before I change my mind." 

He doesn't bother elaborating on what he means by that— if he just means telling the boy's father anyways or turning them both into toads— but it's alright, he thinks it's better. No empty threats from him, the boys can come to their own conclusions. 

And it seems like whatever conclusion they reach is scary enough that the two of them immediately bolt back up the path towards the farmhouse. 

Minho watches them go calmly, keeping his eyes trained on their retreating figures until they disappear behind the trees and bushes blocking his view of the rest of the house. Only once he's sure they're gone does he finally let himself release a deep breath, shoulders slumping in relief as he reaches up to brush the back of his hand across his forehead. 

"Fucking brats," he mumbles. "Talking that much is exhausting." 

The talking probably still isn't done, he reminds himself as he straightens his sunhat, although hopefully the rest of this won't be nearly as exhausting. 

He finally looks at Jisung for more than just a brief glance for the first time in a while, eyeing him over. He still stands exactly where the boys cornered him, still staring down at his boots. With his face tilted down it's hard to really make out what's happening on his face. 

Minho frowns, softening his voice before he calls out to him, "Hey. You good?" 

Slowly, Jisung raises his eyes to meet Minho's. His face is still flushed, although Minho can't tell if it's because he's upset or embarrassed or mad— not that it really matters at this point, it's probably a lot of all of that mixed together. 

When he speaks, his voice is uneven just from the one word. "Yeah." 

Minho sighs in relief, suddenly feeling a bit weak in the knees after the encounter. He lowers himself back onto the ground, reaching up to rub his temples. "That's good. That's really good." 

Seemingly unsure of what to do now, Jisung looks at Minho while playing with his hands. "Um. Thank you." 

Minho just shrugs. "I couldn't just leave you there while they talked to you like that." He drops his hand back down to the blanket, fingers plucking at a loose thread. After a moment, he asks, "Do you want to come sit down for a while?" 

Jisung is silent. Then he nods, finally crossing the bridge and making his way over to where Minho's sitting in the shade of the blossoming trees. When he stands hovering on the edge of the blanket, Minho reaches out to pat the space on the other end. 

Jisung slowly sits down, careful to keep his boots off the blanket. 

"You can take those off," Minho tells him softly, and after a moment of hesitation Jisung nods and does what he says. Once they're off, Jisung tucks his feet under his legs and looks at Minho timidly. It makes something in his chest hurt when he looks at him. He clears his throat. "So, do those two bother you a lot?" 

Jisung hesitates, fingers brushing back and forth across his knuckles. "I... I guess. I can handle it though." 

_It doesn't really look like you were handling it,_ Minho thinks, but doesn't dare say that out loud. It's almost definitely not what Jisung needs to hear right now. 

Instead, he says, "Well, if they've got even an ounce of wits in those big heads of theirs they'll listen to what I said, if only for their own sakes." He stretches, rolling his neck until something pops. He sighs at the feeling, reaching up to rub at it. "If they keep messing with you after this come tell me." 

"Are you really going to turn his father away if he doesn't stop?" Jisung asks, looking at Minho warily. 

Minho frowns at that. "Honestly, I just said whatever came to mind in the moment that I thought would get them to leave you be." 

Jisung tilts his head slightly. "So it was an empty threat?" 

"Hmm. No, not quite," Minho admits. "I think if I hear they haven't stopped I'll definitely have a chat with his father next time he comes calling as much as I hate talking with villagers any more than I have to. But that doesn't mean I'm going to outright turn him away. I don't know, I think I'll warn him. I'm sure the threat would be enough for him to set his son straight." 

A bitter smile spreads over Jisung's face at that, catching Minho off-guard. "That's probably smart. The only way to get it to stop is if you make it about the horse, not me." Jisung shakes his head. "It's just a good reminder, I guess. Worth less than a farm animal." 

Minho's frown deepens. "Well, I don't think you're worth less than a horse." 

"No, I know," Jisung says, and just like that the bitter expression is gone and suddenly he just looks incredibly tired. 

Silence sweeps over the two of them after that. Minho awkwardly shifts, eyes wandering around the riverbank in an effort to look anywhere besides Jisung. Jisung, for his part, just stares blankly somewhere in the distance. 

_Well,_ Minho thinks, _this is certainly... nice._

He's about to ask Jisung if he's going to be alright if he leaves when suddenly an orange head pops up from the basket next to him, staring out at the two people on the blanket with curious eyes. 

"A cat?" Jisung says, the words seeming to slip out of his mouth without thinking as Soonie's surprise appearance jostles him out of his haze. 

Soonie, who must have crawled back into the basket when the shouting started and decided it was quiet enough now that she could come out again, looks at the strange new person sitting next to Minho with twitching ears. 

"Soonie," Minho says softly, and at her name her head twists to look at him. He reaches out to her, cooing softly. "It's alright. He's a friend, okay? You don't have to be scared." 

Jisung seems frozen in place, afraid to move in case he scares Soonie. Keeping his voice quiet, he asks, "Is that her name? Soonie?" 

Minho hums in affirmation as he slowly brushes his hand over Soonie's head and down her spine. She relaxes under his hand, forgetting the strange new human as she's lavished with affection. 

"She's pretty," Jisung whispers, looking at her in awe. 

Minho can't help the way the corners of his lips quirk up into a smile. "Do you like cats, Jisung?" 

Jisung nods. "I like pretty much all animals except creepy crawly things, but cats are definitely my favorite. There are a bunch of strays that visit the barn where I stay in and I always feed them." He pauses at that, cheeks flushing as he takes his eyes off Soonie to look at Minho. "Um. Don't mention that to anyone. I'm not supposed to feed them because it makes them come back, but they're so cute." 

Amused, Minho shakes his head. "Don't worry about that, it's not like I actually have anyone to tell. You're really the only person I talk to." 

"Not even the people who go up to the cottage?" Jisung asks curiously. 

Minho shakes his head. "I wouldn't exactly call my relationship with any of them friendly, Jisung. We don't have small talk and we certainly don't gossip." 

"Oh," Jisung says, shifting slightly. "You talk to me though." 

Minho's hand slows as it pets Soonie. 

He does talk to Jisung. In fact, Jisung is strangely easy to talk to. He's never really experienced this with someone else except for Shiwon. All the other villagers put Minho on edge, but strangely Jisung just... doesn't. 

"I do," Minho slowly acknowledges. 

"Why?" Jisung asks, tilting his head slowly. 

_I sure wish I knew,_ Minho almost says before he stops himself. He frowns. 

It's not like it's horribly mysterious at this point why Minho doesn't actually mind talking with Jisung. He even thought about it in passing the last time the two of them were together. 

"I guess it's just because you treat me like a person," Minho admits slowly. Jisung's eyes widen at that, his lips parting slightly like he wasn't expecting that to be Minho's answer. Minho hesitates for a moment before he continues, "You know, the other villagers just think of me as a witch. _The_ witch, actually. The witch in the woods. The strange, scary creature up in the forest that can grant them magical gifts but is also something they don't understand. Because I'm not normal like them. Every time we meet, you talk to me like I'm just another person the same as you. That makes it... nice to talk to you, I guess." 

"Oh," Jisung says softly. "I didn't— I didn't realize that was something you weren't used to." 

Minho's eyes drop back down to Soonie, eyes softening as he looks at her. He gently rubs behind her ears, watching her butt against his hand for more. "It's fine. It's not like I exactly realized I was missing out on anything until recently." 

Jisung makes a tiny noise of surprise, something squeaky like a mouse before he points at himself. "You mean—?" 

Minho can't help but snort, Jisung's shocked reaction pulling a small smile across his face again. "Well, who else? It's hard to realize you're missing something until someone comes in and, well, I guess in our case barges into your enchanted garden and talks to you like a human being." 

Jisung's face only just stopped being bright red, but at Minho's reminder of his previous transgression— and maybe at the realization that he did something good for Minho— his full cheeks immediately start to color once more. "Well, uh— at least something good came out of that then, right?" A nervous little laugh bubbles out of his throat. "I guess." 

Minho's amused smile softens. He hasn't actually said the words yet, but he knows he has to even if it feels like they're being pulled from his mouth with pliers. 

Taking a breath before he speaks, he tells Jisung, "Thank you." 

Jisung startles again, eyes widening even more as his cheeks somehow turn redder. "Oh— no! No! You shouldn't be the one thanking me, not— not after what you just did! I should be thanking you!" Seeming to process his own sputtering, he immediately does a deep bow until his ruffled brown hair is pressed against the deep blue of the blanket. "Thank you! Thank you again for helping me just now!" 

He's kind of cute when he's so flustered, Minho can't help but think absently as he watches him. Immediately after he registers the thought he waves it away, shaking his head to rid himself of whatever that was and where it came from. 

"You can stop now," he tells Jisung gently, and on cue Jisung lifts himself back up, his hair mussed even more than usual. Still smiling, he reaches up to point at his own hair. "Your hair is a little..." 

Jisung stares at him blankly for a minute before he realizes what Minho means. Still red, he hastily pats down his hair until it starts to resemble the normal messiness Minho's used to from him. 

Minho watches him with amusement, fingers playing with the loose thread on the blanket again. 

Yeah, okay. Despite his initial misgivings about him— which he stands by being perfectly reasonable given the circumstances— Jisung is actually downright likable. And sure, like he said a lot of that is because Jisung actually treats him like a person, but there's also something strangely gentle and curious about him in general that makes Minho like him. He's like... well, he's a bit like a cat. 

And then there are the things the other boys said about him. The thought makes the smile slowly slide off Minho's mouth, although Jisung's still too busy trying to fix his hair to notice. 

_So he's an orphan_ , Minho thinks, the quiet voice in the back of his head finishing the thought, _like me_. 

Maybe that's part of it too— and not just that he's an orphan. From the way they talked, it sounds like Jisung doesn't really have anyone, not just his parents. Staying with someone else— in a barn loft, for goodness sake— at the mercy of the owner's shitty son, seemingly unliked by the rest of the village for being someone they feel obligated to care for but not to like. 

Right. That's familiar to Minho, no matter how he thinks about it. 

If he's being honest, maybe part of why he gets along so well with Jisung is they both recognized the same kind of loneliness in the other, even if they didn't quite realize that's what it was at first. 

An orphan from the village and a witch of the woods. Two lonely people not used to being treated like people at all, much less treated with kindness. 

Funny then, Minho thinks as he watches Jisung finish fixing his hair, that this lonely villager somehow wandered into his garden. 

"Do you want to pet her?" Minho asks suddenly, breaking the silence and his own thoughts. 

Jisung blinks rapidly, looking up at Minho in confusion. "What?" 

Minho gently strokes Soonie's head, eyes momentarily drifting down to her before looking back up at Jisung. "I asked if you wanted to pet her?" 

Unsure, Jisung asks, "Is that alright?" 

Minho smiles at him softly. "You're good with cats, right? So you know how to approach them without freaking them out?" Jisung nods. "Well, just make sure you come up to her slowly. She's a nice cat, just make sure to respect her and she'll let you touch her." 

Jisung hesitates, glancing between the cat in the basket and Minho before he slowly pulls himself up on his knees as scoots closer. Soonie regards him warily, her ears twitching. 

He slowly extends his hand to her, holding it in a way that doesn't make it seem like he's going to grab her or hurt her. After just staring at it for a bit, Soonie stretches her neck out so she can sniff his hand. 

Seemingly satisfied with Jisung's hand and that he doesn't seem like a threat, Soonie gently rubs the side of her face against his knuckles. 

"Oh!" Jisung's eyes go wide with delight, shuffling even closer to the basket so he can touch her better. 

He coos at her, his fingers finding all the right spots as Soonie basks in his attention, all wariness of this strange human pushed aside now that she's being pet by him. 

It's quite a cute sight. Minho can't really bring himself to deny it this time, although he thinks it's much more reasonable to find this scene before him cute compared to just Jisung being flustered. Right? Yes, this is fine. 

"Do you want to stay and pet her for a while?" Minho asks, picking up his novel from where he set it down earlier when he first noticed Jisung and the other boys. "I usually stay here until I finish my book, but I didn't get through it yet." 

"Sorry," Jisung apologizes instantly. 

Minho shakes his head. "Don't. You don't have to apologize for what happened. And besides, this just means I've gotten to spend more time out here under the blossoms than I usually do." 

Jisung's eyes dart up to the trees above him, realization dawning on him. "Oh! Is that what you were doing down here?" 

"Mmm," Minho confirms, taking Jisung continuing the conversation as confirmation that yes, he wants to stay and pet Soonie for a bit. He flips open his book, easily finding the page he left off on before he was interrupted. "I don't typically leave the cottage, but when these trees blossom I always make the trip down here with Soonie for a little while." 

"That sounds nice," Jisung says softly, now using both hands to pet Soonie who seems to be having the time of her life. "I didn't realize you left your cottage at all." 

"Even I need to step outside sometimes," Minho says, eyes tracing down the page until he finds the last paragraph he read. 

They settle into silence then. It's not the same heavy, awkward silence from before. Instead it feels... easy. Natural. As talkative as Jisung has seemed in the past, he seems content to just sit in silence playing with Soonie while Minho reads. 

It's... nice. _Actually_ nice this time. 

It doesn't take Minho long to finish reading, and he's surprised at the pang of disappointment he feels when he closes the book. Jisung makes nice company even if he's quiet. It's something _about_ that quiet, actually, that makes him nice company in the first place. It's strangely reassuring knowing someone is there and not feeling like he has to talk; the silence not being suffocating the way it is with the other villagers. 

Jisung glances over at him when he notices Minho shut his books, Minho's disappointment reflecting in Jisung's eyes— although Minho guesses it's mostly because he knows his time with Soonie is coming to an end. 

"Did you like the book?" Jisung asks him, still petting Soonie like he's trying to make the most of every second he has left with her. 

"I always do," he says, and Jisung tilts his head slightly to the side but doesn't press at that comment. Shifting his gaze to Soonie, he reaches over to rub her beneath her chin, right where she likes it as Jisung's hand strokes her back. "You're getting rather spoiled today, aren't you, Soonie?" 

Soonie simply purrs in response, her whole body vibrating as the two of them pet her. 

As Minho's hand sweeps down the back of Soonie's head, Jisung brushes up her spine. Neither one of them really seem to think much of it, too focused on the happy cat, until suddenly their hands bump against each other. 

Minho freezes instantly at the touch of Jisung's hand against his. Jisung doesn't seem to process what's happening at first, his hand pushing against Minho's for another second before he too realizes they're touching and stills as well. 

It's just the sides of their hands, Jisung's thumb pressed against Minho's pinky, but for some reason the touch of skin to skin makes Minho's brain stop working. 

He stopped handing orders to people a long time ago, and even then they always took them so gingerly that their hands never actually touched. 

He can't for the life of him recall the last time he actually touched another person. 

Jisung's skin is warm, and for some reason that startles Minho. He's used to his hands always being cold even during summer, but even with just the slightest press of skin against his, it feels like Jisung is the opposite. He didn't really notice it before, but now that their hands are next to each other Minho realizes that's Jisung's skin is darker than his as well. Not by much, but it's a much warmer honey-toned color. And his hands are deceptively small— almost exactly the same size as Minho's. 

"Sorry," Jisung blurts out, breaking Minho out of his stupor and pulling back his hand. He sets it in his lap, clasping both his hands together. 

"No," Minho says slowly, his own hand still frozen on the spot between Soonie's shoulder blades. "It's... it's fine. Don't worry about it." 

He shakes his head then, doing his best to wake himself up. No need to freak Jisung out just because he's having a moment of realization over his lack of touch. 

Almost shyly, Jisung asks, "So... you're done, right? You're going back home now?" 

Minho nods, sighing. "I've spent way longer out here than I usually do anyways." He gently scratches Soonie behind the ears one more time before he pulls his hand back. "I can't exactly stay here all day. Especially not when I have to feed the other two." 

"The other two?" Jisung echoes, eyes going wide. "You mean other cats?" 

Despite how disorientated the hand touch made him, Minho can't help but laugh at Jisung's reaction. "Yes, two more cats. Soonie's really the only one of them that's well enough behaved to come down here though." 

"Wow," Jisung says softly, like Minho just told him something amazing instead of the fact that he has two more cats at home. 

Weighing the book in his hand, Minho runs the words he's thinking of over and over his tongue before he finally says, "If you come by the cottage some time, you can meet them." 

Jisung looks at Minho like he just grew a third arm. "Huh?" 

Minho clears his throat, the tips of his ears warming. "I said, if you ever decide to visit the cottage again, you can meet the other two cats." 

"I don't really have anything I need though," Jisung says slowly. "At least not anything... magic." 

Ah. He doesn't get it. 

"No." Minho turns the book over again, studying the worn spine like he doesn't know every ridge. "You don't... need an excuse to come by. You can just come visit. If you want to see the cats, I mean." 

"Oh," Jisung says. Then he seems to realize what Minho's saying, what he's offering, and he repeats with much more shock, _"Oh."_

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Minho says hastily. 

"No, no— that sounds— I mean I really think that sounds nice, if you're actually sure—" 

"I'm sure." 

"Well, maybe I will." Jisung gives Minho a smile. "I do like cats, after all." 

They part with timid goodbyes after that, like both of them realize this is a strange new thing for both of them. 

All the way back to the cottage, Soonie pokes her head out of the basket and looks around before ducking back down, seemingly disappointed at Jisung's disappearance. 

If Minho's being honest, there's a part of him that agrees with her. 

\---

The sweet blossoms on the river trees disappear as fast as they came, the smell of flowers on the breeze a distant memory after only a few days. It's sad every year, something so fleeting, and Minho can't help but find himself spending more time in the garden in the days after as he tends to the flowers. 

He also can't stop thinking about Jisung, as much as it pains him to admit. There's just something about their meeting at the river that made an unnamable thing inside of Minho click into place. Suddenly the cottage and the woods, familiar as they are, are strangely lonely. Their time under the blossoming trees had been short-lived, but it's undeniable to Minho that admitting he didn't mind Jisung— liked him even— has made the days of solitude after feel almost painful. 

He can't help but wonder how he did this for so long, doing the same things every single day all by himself. It's embarrassing if he's being honest, having spent so many years in the cottage alone without any issue only to become twitchy and... bored? 

Oh, there are a couple of villagers who pop in for orders but Minho can hardly consider that anything. Especially not after the time he spent with Jisung. 

And on the topic of spending time with Jisung, Minho has to admit that the more time passes, the more anxious he finds himself getting. He'd invited Jisung to visit the cottage whenever he wants; under the condition of meeting the other cats, of course, because he can't imagine talking to some borderline stranger who's suddenly coming to terms with how isolated and awkward he is would be rather appealing to Jisung. And Jisung had seemed rather enthusiastic, or at least Minho thought so at the time. 

He had said whenever Jisung wanted, he didn't demand that he come the next day or even the day after. Just... an open invitation whenever he wanted, if he wanted at all. 

But the more days pass without a knock on his door save for the usual nervous villagers seeking magic, the more Minho thinks that maybe Jisung doesn't want at all. Maybe he simply agreed to get Minho to leave him alone? The strange witch from the woods asking him to come meet his cats, Minho honestly can't blame him. 

But still. He can't help but feel... something. He hasn't felt anything close to it in a long time, his steady routine pushing all his emotions in a box because it's just easier that way. It's not like he really needs that many of them all by himself. But alone in the cottage for nearly two weeks after extending the offer to Jisung, Minho undeniably feels sad. 

It's strange feeling that again, having learned to pack that particular pesky emotion away very early on into his isolation. It's a bit bittersweet; something stirred him up enough to warrant sadness which is bizarre in its own right, but he can't help but wish this one stayed boxed away where he put it. 

It's in the middle of moping in the old rocking chair with Doongie asleep in his lap and almost on his way to a midday nap himself that a knock comes on the cottage door, startling Minho and waking an irritated Doongie— although he's sure the way the sound made Minho jump out of his skin didn't help with keeping the poor cat asleep either. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he picks up Doongie with his other hand and deposits the limp cat on the floor before struggling to his feet, brushing off what he hopes is all the visible cat hair on his dark clothing. 

He can't really recall a villager having an order to either request or pick up today but it's not like that really matters. The villagers all work on their own schedules with very little care for Minho's. It's definitely not unheard of for them to just pop in whenever to grovel for enchantments and charms, some of them even trying to ask for their orders early. Rather annoying. As much as they fear him for being an all-powerful witch in their eyes, they certainly don't have any respect for him or his time. 

Grumpy after having his nap interrupted, Minho's fully ready to just tell whoever it is to come back tomorrow and slam the door in their face. In fact, he's well on the way to doing just that until he throws open the cottage door and his tired glare lands on a startled and very round familiar face. 

"Oh," Jisung says, eyes wide as he clasps his hands in front of him. His dark eyes dart around, from Minho's equally startled face to the dimly lit interior of the cottage. "I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something?" 

Quickly swallowing down the harsh words he'd prepared to spout at whatever villager was on the other side of the door when he opened it, Minho rapidly shakes his head. "No. I was just... studying, that's all." 

Right. Studying. Definitely not moping because of Jisung not coming to visit him after he invited him. 

"Oh, that's my bad. Should I come back another time?" Jisung asks, giving Minho an unsure smile. 

"No!" Minho blurts before he has time to think, the word coming out much louder and harsher than he meant, so much so that it makes both of them jump. Schooling his voice into a more normal tone, he hastily adds, "No, you don't have to leave. You really weren't interrupting anything important. It was rather boring anyways." 

The startled, kind of nervous expression Jisung wears melts away at that, his smile softening into something that seems a lot more natural. "Well, if you're really sure." 

"I am," Minho agrees immediately, something in his chest warming when he looks at the easy smile on Jisung's face. 

They just look at each other for a moment, Minho's hand still holding the door open. 

Jisung raises an eyebrow. "Well? Can I come inside?" 

Oh, duh. Minho could hit himself. 

"Of course. Come in." He takes a step back, still holding the door open for Jisung. 

His awkwardness doesn't quite seem lost on Jisung, but it doesn't seem like it really bothers him. In fact, Jisung laughs as Minho lets him in. It's a warm, soft laugh. Done half under his breath as he steps inside the cottage. 

He has a really nice laugh, Minho thinks absently. 

"Should I take my boots off?" Jisung asks, his eyes darting around the cottage as he takes everything in. 

"If you want," Minho tells him, and he realizes with some amusement that he doesn't think a villager has ever asked him that before. They all just keep their shoes on when they come to pick up their orders, even if they come into the kitchen. Well, he can't really blame them. They do all think he'll turn them into toads if they breathe wrong, it's best to keep their shoes on for running down the trail back home if he does decide to curse them. 

As Jisung drops down to unlace his boots, Minho sweeps over the cottage with a critical eye— and man, he really wishes Jisung would've given him a heads up because his home is... lived in, to put it one way. 

It's embarrassing to admit, but when he got home after meeting Jisung at the river he'd actually tidied up the place more than usual. He sorted all his books, made sure nothing was on the floor even over in the little nook with the rocking chair where he likes to read. He scrubbed the floors. He wiped down all the tables and counters. He restocked his shelves of magical components, made sure they all look neat and in order. 

You know. Totally normal cleaning when anticipating someone coming over. Not that it means that he was excited about Jisung visiting or anything. He was just... trying to be prepared. 

In the two weeks that have passed since they met, Minho's slump has kind of made the organization of the cottage become an afterthought. The overzealous cleaning he'd done immediately after coming home from meeting with Jisung was a pitiful reminder of his own excitement and Jisung's lack of appearance. 

Vials of ingredients and half-finished charms lay scattered across the main table, notebooks laying flat where he set them down after getting bored and forget to put away. The state of the reading nook is even worse, the rocking chair surrounded by stacking of books on the floor, each somehow taller than the last. 

Minho clears his throat, feeling the tips of his ears warming as he looks around, "Uh, sorry for... how things look. I've been very busy. Very, very busy." 

Jisung flashes him a little smile as he finishes taking his boots off, placing them neatly to the side of the door and straightening up again. "Ah, don't worry about it! I think it's nice. Cluttered." 

Minho's eye twitches. "I'm not quite sure that's the compliment you think it is?" 

Jisung shoots him a confused look and tilts his head slightly, his messy brown hair falling into his eyes. "You don't think so? I think it's cool you own all this stuff. It makes everything feel... cozy, I guess. You can tell this has been your home for a long time." 

"Yes, well," Minho frowns at the disarray clearly visible from the doorway, "that's definitely a nicer way of saying my home is a mess, that's for sure." 

Jisung snorts at that. "Well, if that's how you want to interpret what I said then sure. But I genuinely like it, messy or not." 

Minho shakes his head. "Any other backhanded compliments you want to offer me?" 

Jisung shoots him a grin. "I'll let you know if I think of any." 

Cheeky, Minho thinks, the corners of his lips curling up slightly as he finally closes the door after them. 

"Oh!" Jisung inhales sharply next to him, making Minho turn his head to look back over his shoulder. 

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what got that noise out of Jisung. 

Quick as lighting, an orange streak bounds across the length of the cottage and haphazardly leaps up onto the big table that stands between the door and the reading nook. 

"Soonie, right?" Jisung steps forward, almost timidly holding his hand out to Soonie. She doesn't bother sniffing him like she did the first time they met, instead butting her head against his knuckles instantly. 

Minho hums in confirmation, coming up next to Jisung as he begins to pet Soonie. "She must have smelled you and came running." 

Jisung turns to look at Minho, a wry smile on his face. "If you think I stink you can just tell me." 

Minho rolls his eyes. "You know that's not what I meant. And you don't, for the record." 

Jisung just continues to smile at him for a moment before he turns back to Soonie, gently rubbing her under her chin in the exact spot that she loves. She purrs loud enough that Minho's surprised the table doesn't start to vibrate with her. 

"Hi Soonie," Jisung says sweetly, his voice rising until it's downright squeaky. Minho presses his lips together tightly, trying his best to stifle the laugh that wants to escape as he watches Jisung babytalk his cat. "You're so pretty, aren't you? Yes you are, yes you are..." 

"She likes you," Minho says after a bit of just watching them, an easy smile on his face. 

Jisung turns to look at him then, something a lot like pride on his face as a big grin spreads across it. "Really?" 

Minho nods, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's usually pretty shy with strangers— they all are. They usually hide whenever someone else is over." 

Jisung's eyes suddenly go wide as saucers, his hand still petting Soonie. "Oh! That's right! You have two other cats, yeah?" 

The sheer excitement Jisung seems to get at the very concept of Minho's cats is enough to make Minho giddy. He feels a bit like a proud parent as he circles around the table and walks over to the reading nook, fishing an annoyed Doongie out from behind a stack of books and cradling him in his arms like an extremely grumpy baby. 

The noise that Jisung makes when Minho picks the cat up is more or less a squeak. Maybe he just squeaks a lot. He wears a look of awe that's almost definitely not a proportionate reaction to such an admittedly goofy looking cat like Doongie, but Minho doesn't mind. It's cute, and really who is he to complain about someone else finally admiring his cats? 

"Oh wow," Jisung says, voice breathy like he's viewing a masterpiece instead of a mildly pissed off cat. "What's their name?" 

"Doongie," Minho tells him, still cradling the cat in his arms. He shifts his grip on him slightly so he can rub behind his ears, and while Doongie is blessed with a perpetually grumpy-looking face, the swish of his tail and the gentle purring as he closes his eyes and leans into Minho's touch is enough of a giveaway that Doongie isn't actually that upset. 

Minho walks back over to Jisung, smiling fondly down at Doongie as he continues to pet him. 

"Can I touch him?" Jisung asks, his one hand still petting a very happy Soonie with no sign of letting up, despite him asking to pet yet another cat. 

"Go ahead," Minho tells him. "Don't let his face fool you, that's just how he looks. He's a giant baby." 

Jisung lets Doongie sniff his hand, smiling gleefully when he rubs against Jisung's hand in approval. Just like Minho expected, Jisung hasn't stopped petting Soonie either. There's something remarkably endearing about Jisung refusing to stop petting either of his cats, something that makes Minho's smile widen as he watches. 

"You said there's another one?" Jisung doesn't even look up at Minho once as he speaks, his eyes busy flicking back and forth between Soonie and Doongie. 

"Dori," Minho says, glancing around the cottage. It's not exactly like it's a very big place, there's not a lot of places to hide. "She's around here somewhere." 

Sure enough, down the hall, he can see a little gray head poking out of his bedroom. 

Gently placing Doongie down on the table, Minho walks a bit closer to Dori before crouching down and calling to her, holding out a hand and clicking his tongue. After a moment of hesitation, no doubt because of the stranger in the house, she comes padding over to Minho. 

He scoops her up, leaning down to press kisses against the soft fur on her head as he holds her securely in his arms. The little tabby wiggles in his arms as he kisses her, less in a struggle to get free because she doesn't like it and more because she's just naturally hyper and likes to move around. 

"This," Minho says, face still pressed into her fur as he turns back to Jisung and brings her over to him, "is the baby of the family." 

Jisung gasps softly, taking a few steps closer so he can offer his hand out to Dori. Dori, unlike her siblings, immediately reaches out and bats at Jisung's hand— claws sheathed, luckily. Jisung jumps nonetheless, hastily apologizing to the little cat. 

Minho doesn't manage to bite back his laugh in time, the sound ringing in his voice as he says, "Don't worry, I don't think she's mad. She's just playful." 

Jisung tries again, offering his hand to her much more timidly. Dori grapples his hand with both her paws this time, dragging his hand over to her where she begins to gnaw at the side of it. 

"Dori," Minho chides and reaches up to prod her teeth away from Jisung. "We don't bite friends." 

Jisung seems completely unbothered by the kitten chewing on his hand, a silly grin on his face. "It's okay. Like you said, I think she's just being playful." 

"Still," Minho says, "I don't want her to get in the habit of biting." 

"That's fair," Jisung acknowledges, retracting his hand. He casts his eyes over to the table where Soonie and Doongie still sit, both of them looking marginally more grumpy that Jisung's attention has been stolen away by the baby. They're placated by Jisung reaching out to pet both of them again. When he speaks, his voice is soft. "They're all so cute." 

Minho places Dori on the table and like a moth to a flame she's pressing in on Jisung, rubbing up against his arm and demanding just as much attention as her siblings. 

"Oh, they're menaces," he says fondly. Then he frowns. "Sorry, I really wasn't expecting you. I would've had tea prepared or... something. Not exactly a very polite host." 

Jisung laughs at that. "No, you don't have to apologize. I did drop by unexpected, that's my fault. And besides, it's not exactly like I care much about any formalities or polite gestures. Honestly, I'm just happy you decided you like me enough to invite me over at all." 

Minho clears his throat, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Yeah, he sure does like him enough to invite him over. He's still doesn't fully understand what exactly... all of this entails, but he's figuring it out. Hopefully. "Yes, well... why don't I make us some tea? Do you have any preferences? I have a lot of different kinds." 

Jisung simply hums before shaking his head. "No, I like just about anything. I'll drink whatever you want." 

So Minho makes them tea, knocking around the kitchen while Jisung sits at the table. 

He seems perfectly content to be left alone like that, Minho notes with some amusement as he glances up from the kettle. Jisung hardly looks like he needs anyone else's attention, he's entirely focused on the cats loving up on him. 

When Minho finally brings the kettle over with a pair of delicate cups he pulls from one of the old cupboards, he shoos the cats off the table and sits down across from Jisung. He pours Jisung's first, then his. 

"Ah, thank you," Jisung says, dipping his head slightly so he can blow onto the tea. "What kind is it?" 

"Lavender," Minho says, setting the kettle off to the side on a folded cloth. 

"I don't think I've had lavender tea before," Jisung muses. He looks up at Minho again. "Did the lavender come from the garden?" 

Minho nods. "The garden provides everything I could possibly need. That's the way it was enchanted." 

"That's amazing," Jisung whispers, awe in his voice. Minho frowns at that, something that doesn't escape Jisung's notice. Suddenly looking worried, he asks, "What is it? Did I say something wrong?" 

"No," Minho says slowly, setting his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand in a way Shiwon would've scolded him for. His finger absently traces the rim of the teacup. "You're right. The garden is amazing. I guess I just... haven't thought of it that way in a while and it's not exactly like the other villagers are very eager to talk to me about it. It's strange hearing it called that." 

Jisung smiles at that, blowing onto his tea again. "Well, that makes sense. You've lived here for years and years, right? You're used to it. But coming from someone who's not, yeah, the idea of a magic garden that can grow whatever food or plants you need forever is incredible." 

And it is, isn't it? It's Minho's daily life now, something unremarkable, but if he thinks back to when he was a child he can remember having the same awestruck reaction to the garden. 

"Can I ask how long you've actually lived here?" Jisung asks, making Minho blink. "Is that crossing a line?" 

Minho shakes his head. "No. I've lived in the cottage since I was... nine? Or right before I turned nine." 

"Wow," Jisung murmurs. "A long time then. So that makes you..." 

"Twenty-two." Minho chances a sip from his cup, finding it hot but not unbearably so. 

"Oh! You're two years older than me then." Seeing that Minho hasn't burnt his tongue, Jisung follows suit. He lowers his cup after taking a sip, a pensive look on his face as smacks his lips together. After a moment, he smiles. "Wow, that's really good!" 

"Lavender's my favorite. Mint also makes good tea," Minho says, raising his cup to his lips again. 

"You'll have to make that for me next time," Jisung tells him, eyes sparkling. 

Minho chokes at that, barely stopping himself from spitting his tea all over the table. Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand as he sets his cup down, he sputters out, "Next time?" 

Jisung just smiles cheekily at him. "Yeah? You said I could just drop by and visit whenever, right?" 

Minho narrows his eyes, a bit embarrassed at the way Jisung caught him off-guard. "I meant you could come over to meet my cats whenever you wanted. I haven't said anything about you coming over more after this." 

Jisung just shakes his head. "You play coy too much, Minho. If you want to be my friend and enjoy my company, you can just say so outright, you know? You don't have to use your cats as bait." 

"I've done no such thing!" Minho insists angrily, even as he feels the blush creeping up the back of his neck. 

"Sure," Jisung says, still grinning. "This was always about the cats, not that I won you over with my charm and," he tilts his head, framing his jawline with his hand in an exaggerated pose, "dashing good looks." 

"Be quiet," Minho says. 

"I don't think I will," Jisung shoots back. 

"I'll revoke my invitation," Minho tells him. "You won't be allowed to visit anymore." 

"Aha!" Jisung exclaims, startling Minho as he points accusingly at him. "I won't be able to visit anymore! Implying that you were going to let me keep visiting! Because you like me!" 

"I think I'm regretting letting you in now," Minho says with a sigh, scowling at Jisung. 

Jisung's face twists into an innocent smile, fluttering his eyelashes at Minho. His voice is sugary sweet. "You really should be honest with your feelings. You won't get anywhere if you just dance around them. Say it with me now: I want," Jisung speaks slowly as he makes circular gestures, prompting Minho to speak with him— something Minho most certainly does not do, "to be your friend, Jisung." 

"You just seemed to like Soonie, that's all," Minho grumbles. "I figured you'd want to meet the others." 

Jisung snorts, dropping his hands back onto the table. He rests his chin in his hand, still smiling knowingly at Minho. "You know, you really can just say you invited me here because you want to get to know me. You have called me your friend a couple of times now, you know that right?" 

Minho reels back, staring at him. "No, I haven't." 

"You have," Jisung says, obviously amused. "You told Soonie I was a friend that day by the river and you told Dori the same thing earlier." 

Minho opens his mouth to argue before firmly shutting it, his own words playing back in his head. Ah. 

Seemingly aware he just won, Jisung laughs. "It's alright, slip of the tongue. Happens to the best of us. For the record, Minho, I'm happy to be your friend." 

Surely red now, Minho just picks up his cup and brings it to his lip, averting his eyes. "Shut up and drink your tea." 

Jisung does as he's told, still smiling. "And besides, I think you've been outvoted on whether or not I'm a friend anyways." 

It takes Minho a moment to process what he means but without their bickering filling the little cottage, the sound of three separate purrs coming from the foot of Jisung's chair becomes obvious. 

"Traitors," Minho mumbles, and Jisung laughs into his teacup. 

\---

Jisung keeps his word to come back to the cottage, and despite Minho's attempts to seem aloof he can't exactly deny the warm fluttering feeling in his chest every time he opens the door and finds Jisung there. 

He makes them tea, letting Jisung pick out what kind they'll drink every time— with some guidance from Minho, of course. Jisung's actually had very few kinds of tea and is all too eager to drink whatever Minho brews and pours into his cup. 

"I like the lavender best," Jisung tells him a little over a month into their visits, cup raised to his lips. 

Minho raises his eyebrow at that, fingers playing with the corner of one the old journal in front of him. Recently, he's taken to working while Jisung visits. A month ago he would've balked at the idea, but the more time he spends with Jisung, the less he worries about scaring him off or feeling uncomfortable himself. "Lavender? I've made you so many different kinds of tea and you still like the first one I made you the most?" 

Jisung just smiles softly at him. "Yeah, exactly. It's special." 

"Well..." Minho clears his throat, glancing down at his book. "If you say so." 

"I do," Jisung says. And with that, he reaches over and steals a couple of blueberries from the dish next to Minho, having already demolished the ones Minho gave him with his tea. When Minho looks up at him to glare, Jisung just continues to smile innocently. 

Jisung says things a lot. Strange things, things halfway between jokes and something genuine. Minho's never quite sure how to react to that, not when he can barely wrap his head around the fact that Jisung is here in the first place. 

Like it or not, Jisung had been right when he said Minho used his cats as an excuse to spend time with Jisung. In Minho's mind, there's really no reason for Jisung to come visit the cottage for him. The cats, however, are... well, they're cats. And Jisung is a cat person. Even if Jisung just comes over to see the cats, at least Minho has an excuse to spend time with the only person who's treated him like another human being in years. 

But, despite Minho being fully prepared to be an afterthought in Jisung's visits, it seems like Jisung actually, genuinely likes Minho. 

He enjoys being in the cottage, enjoys talking to him. Minho didn't realize just how chatty Jisung actually is; not that he hadn't gotten hints of it before, but now that he's seeing him once, twice, sometimes every other day a week or more, he realizes Jisung talks a lot. 

That's not a bad thing— far from it, in fact. Minho likes how much Jisung talks. Jisung talks for the sake of talking, but it's never annoying to Minho. It doesn't feel like he's talking to fill the silence, more like he just feels comfortable talking about whatever thoughts come to mind in the moment and hearing Minho's responses. 

For his part, Minho's shocked at how easy it is to talk to Jisung. He's gone years without talking to anyone for more than a couple of quick words in a business exchange— or talking to his cats— but when he talks to Jisung, he doesn't feel rusty at all. Maybe it's because Jisung just talks about anything and everything and that makes it easy to just say whatever comes to mind back without thinking too hard, but it's reassuring. That's what he was afraid of: being too overwhelmingly bad at talking to people after so long that Jisung just lost interest in him. 

But against all odds, he hasn't, and it almost seems like each time Jisung comes over he's more and more comfortable. Sometimes he skips right past the greetings, simply stepping inside without waiting for Minho and collapsing in his usual chair. Minho chided him for being rude the first few times he did it, but honestly, he doesn't actually care. 

It's... strange seeing Jisung become so at home here after such a short time. Strange but nice. 

Strange but nice seems like it could be a good summary of what their relationships feels like to Minho. 

For all their joking around and comfortable banter, Jisung does sometimes stray into that oddly sincere territory that Minho doesn't actually know how to respond to. 

It's not like Minho doesn't get it. He thinks he understands where Jisung's coming from. After all, part of the reason Minho decided to reach out in the first place was because of the realization that they were both a lot alike. 

He was lonely for a long time, although he put those feelings away until Jisung came along and he realized just how much he missed actually being with other people. He's genuinely very happy to have someone around now, and maybe it's because of how isolated he was for so long— how isolated Jisung was as well— but it feels like they've become closer than Minho anticipated much faster than he thought. 

But still. Minho isn't exactly very good at expressing emotions, so any time Jisung dances close to the line of being sincere about how glad he is that they're friends, how much he enjoys spending time together, Minho can't help but get embarrassed. 

_Sap,_ Minho calls him once after Jisung tells him it feels like they've known each other for years. 

_Maybe so,_ Jisung says with a soft smile and twinkling eyes that remind Minho of a clear night sky. 

\---

“Do you actually use those weird things everyone always says witches use for spells?” Jisung inquires one day, peering up at the shelves of bottled ingredients Minho keeps above his work table and the flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling as they dry. 

Minho raises an eyebrow from where he sits in the old rocking chair, Soonie curled up in his lap as he weaves a braid of thread for the charm he’s making. “Weird things? You’ll have to be more specific. My definition of weird is a lot different than the villagers’ and their stories.” 

Jisung hums thoughtfully. “Oh, you know. Eye of newt, tongue of dog. That kind of thing.” 

Minho can’t help but snort in amusement. Setting his thread on the small table beside his chair, he gently lifts a pliant Soonie off his lap and sets her on the ground, whispering a soft apology for disturbing her nap. She seems unbothered. 

Getting to his feet, Minho joins Jisung in front of his shelves. Getting up onto his tiptoes, he reaches to the highest one and plucks a jar off of it, then pulls a smaller bottle off a lower shelf. He turns to Jisung with an amused smile, holding them up so he can see the contents. 

Jisung squints at them. “Plants?” 

Indeed. Inside both containers are something harvested from plants in the garden. 

Minho gently shakes the jar of seeds. “Eye of newt. Mustard seeds.” He shakes the smaller bottle of leaves and roots. “Tongue of dog. Houndstongue.” 

Jisung can’t help but laugh. “You mean they tell all these stories about how you and other witches butcher innocent animals for parts to use in your spells but they’re just folk names for plants?” 

“It seems that way,” Minho says with an exasperated shake of his head, putting the containers back on the shelves they came from. “And even if I did, it’s not like they’re any better. They kill animals for food, for materials to make things for themselves. For bragging rights. Even if I did use animal parts in my spells— which I don’t, at least not to the extent they think— I’d simply be doing the same thing they do. They just don’t understand magic and thus it’s worse for me to do it, hypothetically.” 

Jisung hums thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve never thought about it like that.” 

Minho laughs softly. “It’s okay. When something is normalized, you don’t think much of it unless you’re on the outside or someone else points it out.” 

After a moment, the amusement of Jisung’s face fades, replaced by a sort of sad, apologetic look. “That’s kind of awful, isn’t it? That they demonize you and other witches for something you don’t even do, but they do the same thing and justify it?” 

The smile on Minho’s face remains, although it lacks the lighthearted warmth it had before. “That’s something you realize when you grow up outside of what’s considered normal: people are inherently hypocrites.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung tells him, and when he looks at Minho it’s not with pity but understanding. 

Minho shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize.” 

The kettle starts whistling then, switching his attention over to the tea. Jisung moves in tandem with him, wordlessly going up into Minho’s cabinets to fetch the pair of teacups they always use. He doesn’t even have to ask now, he knows where everything is. 

“So do other witches use different things?” Jisung asks as he sets the table, and Minho’s hums thoughtfully at that. 

“I’ve never met one who does, but I do know there are kinds of magic that use animal parts, of course. Magic is as diverse as the people who practice it. The specific kind of magic that my mentor taught me is primarily plant-based as far as ingredients go.” He slowly pours the tea into the little white cups. Jisung makes a pleased noise as he watches Minho drop three sugar cubes into the younger’s teacup and one into his own. 

"Your mentor," Jisung echoes thoughtfully, reaching out so he can trace the rim of his cup. "You never really talk about them." 

Minho quietly sets the container of sugar on the table, taking a seat across from Jisung. 

"No," he acknowledges slowly, looking down at his tea with a small frown. "I don't." 

In truth, for all him and Jisung talk about anything and everything that comes to mind, there's one thing that neither of them have really touched in the two months they've known each other: themselves. 

Oh, they talk about some things. Minho's pretty confident he knows Jisung's preferences when it comes to food and tea inside and out by now and he's sure Jisung's the same with him. Jisung talks about odd jobs he picks up down in the village for money. Minho talks to him about the garden and all the different kinds of charms and potions he makes for the villagers even if it's probably not proper for him to share that— if he's honest, he doesn't really care much about the villagers' privacy when they're all so cold, and it's not like Jisung's the type to go gossiping to the same people who dislike him. 

So, yeah. They do talk about themselves, but never about their pasts. 

Honestly, part of Minho is a little surprised it took Jisung this long to ask about Shiwon. It's true he doesn't go out of his way to talk about her, but the word mentor has definitely come up in the time they've known each other. 

"Sorry," Jisung says quickly, a look of anxiety crossing his face, "I shouldn't have said anything. There's a reason you don't talk about it." 

He immediately picks up his teacup and takes a big gulp, making Minho flinch because— 

Jisung chokes, barely managing not to spit his still scaldingly hot tea all over Minho's table. Cheeks puffed out with a panicked look on his face, Minho watches in alarm as Jisung forces himself to swallow the tea. 

Minho immediately reaches out and takes Jisung's cup away from him, waving his fingers over it and hurriedly whispering an incantation. A small gust of wind emanates from his fingertips, Jisung's tea immediately cooling down to a drinkable level. 

Looking at Jisung in concern, Minho slides the teacup back to his friend, who currently wears a miserable expression on his face. 

"Careful," Minho chides. "Why did you swallow it?" 

Jisung pouts, his bottom lip jutting out. He looks downright pitiful. "I didn't wanna spit it out." 

Minho sighs deeply. "You could've just spit it out in the teacup and we'd get rid of that. There is more tea." 

"I don't like wasting things," Jisung says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Minho frowns at that, nearly telling Jisung that he doesn't need to worry about something like that before he thinks better of it and cuts himself off. 

It's not like he doesn't know how Jisung lives down in the village. As much as they've both avoided talking in specifics about their past, Jisung having next to nothing to his name and having to work in exchange for a place to stay has been something Minho's known about since the river. 

One of the first things Minho noticed about Jisung was his old, extremely worn clothes. Meeting up with Jisung regularly, it's become increasingly obvious that Jisung only has a couple sets of clothes. He maintains them well, always keeps them clean, but the hand-sewn patches across the knees of his trousers and the stitching on the side of the shirt he wears today makes it obvious he's had these for a long time. 

Jisung has his reasons for not wanting to let things go to waste, it's not Minho's place to tell him otherwise. Not when he lives in a place with an enchanted garden that grows everything and anything he could ever need, within reason. 

"Did you burn your tongue?" Minho asks instead. 

Jisung's cheeks color. "It's fine." 

Minho snorts, getting to his feet. "I'll take that as a yes." 

"What are you doing?" Jisung asks, eyeing him warily as Minho plucks one of the vials off the shelves on the wall. 

"Helping," Minho says simply, coming over and kneeling down next to Jisung. He uncorks the vial, dabbing a little bit of it on the pads of his fingers before setting it on the table. "Stick your tongue out." 

Jisung's eyes go wide as saucers. "Excuse me?" 

"I said," Minho says calmly, "stick your tongue out." 

"You are _not_ putting your fingers in my mouth!" Jisung sputters out, cheeks noticeably darkening as he speaks. 

Minho scowls. "I'm not asking to! That's why I said stick your tongue out! I'm trying to help. Or do you want to deal with the gross burnt tongue feeling for the rest of the day?" 

Jisung goes silent. 

Reluctantly, Jisung opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, pointedly looking up at the ceiling. When Minho brings his hand closer to Jisung's face, Jisung shies away, leaning back a bit in his seat. 

"Jisung," Minho says again, giving him a stern look. 

"Is it going to hurt?" Jisung asks, moving his hands so they grip the sides of his chair. 

"No," Minho says firmly. "It'll tingle. That's it." 

When he lifts his hand again, Jisung leans back once more. His voice raises a pitch. "And do you really have to touch my tongue? Couldn't you... I don't know, put it on something and then dab it on? Not your fingers?" 

"I have to touch whatever I want to cast the spell on," Minho says, frowning at Jisung. "Stop being a baby." 

"I'm not— fine," Jisung relents, shoulders stiff as he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out again. 

This time, Minho reaches out and grabs Jisung's chin, holding him in place. Jisung's eyes go comically wide, shocked into stillness by the sudden touch. Taking advantage of that, Minho uses his other hand to gently take Jisung's tongue between the two fingers coated in oil and mutters an incantation as quickly as he can. 

A tiny spark of golden hue pulses at Minho's fingertips just as Jisung jolts, no doubt from the aforementioned tingling. Letting go of his tongue, Minho can't help the amused smile that spreads across his face as he looks at Jisung's shocked expression. 

"Good boy," Minho says, reaching up to pat Jisung's head with the hand that held his chin, fingers sliding between the ruffled strands of brown. 

Jisung immediately whacks Minho's hand away, face flushed deep red as he refuses to meet Minho's eyes. "Shut up! I'm not a cat." 

Minho giggles, risking another swat so he can ruffle Jisung's hair one more time. He narrowly avoids getting his hand smacked, getting back to his feet and putting the vial back on the shelf where it belongs. When he takes a seat across from Jisung again, his friend is absently touching his bottom lip. 

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Minho asks, smiling slyly at Jisung. 

"I can't believe you touched my tongue," Jisung laments, obviously running his tongue around the inside of his mouth, judging by the way it keeps visibly poking at the insides of his cheeks. 

Minho laughs. "I really had to! I wasn't just touching your tongue because I wanted to." 

"Uh-huh," Jisung says, unconvinced. "I didn't even know there was magic for burnt tongues. Doesn't that seem a little... beneath magic?" 

Minho snorts. He's not exactly wrong. 

"Maybe," Minho acknowledges. "But if you have the ability to fix something mildly inconvenient and annoying, why not? A lot of spells and enchantments are extremely specific and virtually useless because of it." 

"Did you come up with that?" Jisung asks, eyebrow raised. 

Minho shakes his head, smiling fondly. "No, I'm not really good at creating new kinds of magic. That takes a lot of experience and I'm still learning a lot the basics." He gestures across the cottage to the bookshelves over in the reading nook. "There's a journal over there that's dedicated entirely to this kind of basic household magic and simple remedies. Largely useless outside of specific circumstances, but still nice to know about." 

"Interesting," Jisung says as he looks over to the bookshelves, and he doesn't have to say anything else for Minho to guess what he's wondering. 

Well... why not? They've been friends for a couple of months now, it really was bound to come up eventually. 

He likes Jisung. Trusts him, even. 

Still, he can't help how suddenly dry-mouthed he feels as he clears his throat, drawing Jisung's attention back to him. 

"And for the record, yes, my mentor was the one who made that spell I just cast on you," Minho says slowly, pulling his teacup closer to him. It's cooled down a bit in the time he took to worry over Jisung. "She also wrote all of those journals." 

Jisung's eyes go wide at that, then he shakes his head. "Minho, you really don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." 

"No." Minho rubs the curve of the teacup's handle with his thumb, thoughtfully looking down at his tea. "It's alright. It's just strange to talk about. It's not exactly like I've had anyone to talk about her with." 

"Well," Jisung says, and when Minho glances up at him he finds that Jisung's running his eyes across Minho's face, seemingly trying to make sure he's really okay. "If you honestly want to talk about it— about her— and not just because I asked, then I'll listen to you. That's what friends are for, right?" 

Probably, Minho acknowledges, but it's not like he exactly has much firsthand experience of what friends do and don't do. 

He'll take Jisung's word for it though. 

"Do you remember when I told you I've lived here since I was nine?" Minho asks carefully, an odd tingling in his fingers as he ventures into unknown territory. 

After a moment of thought, Jisung nods. "You mean the first time you made me tea? Yeah." 

"Well, obviously a little kid isn't going to be living alone in a cottage like this," Minho says slowly. 

"I figured," Jisung says. "I didn't want to push you for more, especially when we just started trying to be friends." 

"Well, when I was a kid, I lived here with my mentor." The words come at a snail's pace, heavy and unsure as they're pulled from his lips. "This was her cottage originally. Her garden." 

"So she wasn't your mother or anything?" Jisung asks, his words coming just as slowly, cherry-picked like he doesn't want to ask something he shouldn't or press too hard. 

Minho hesitates. 

It's not like he hasn't thought about that before. He's thought about that very question more than he'd like. He wishes he had a clear answer— not just for Jisung, but for himself— but sometimes life doesn't give those. 

After a few seconds of silence, Minho says, "...No? It's— it's hard. No, she wasn't my mother by blood. I didn't call her that either..." 

"But you saw her like that anyways," Jisung guesses quietly. 

Minho nods, grateful that Jisung is following along even if it feels strange hearing something he's gone back and forth on echoed back to him by someone else. He suddenly feels very tired talking about this, each word taking more of a toll than he thought. At least Jisung is making it easier. "And she— I think, at least— I think she treated me like a son... or at least something similar." 

Jisung's smile is soft as he looks at Minho, ruffled hair falling into his eyes as he leans forward and tilts his head slightly so he can rest his cheek in the palm of his hand, elbow propped up on the table. "That must've been nice. She took care of you even if you weren't hers by blood. She sounds very kind." 

"She was," Minho answers easily, and it's the quickest he's said anything so far. However confusing and unsure his emotions are now, one thing is certain in his mind: he loved Shiwon then, and he loves her now. "She saved me." 

Jisung's brows lower at that, a small, thoughtful frown replacing his smile as he silently looking back at Minho. 

It doesn't take a genius to guess what he's thinking about, or why he seems hesitant to ask it aloud. 

Minho clears his throat. "She saved me from an orphanage in a city north of here." 

"Oh," Jisung says softly, and Minho looks away from him, settling his eyes at the open window over his workbench. 

It's not like there's anything to be ashamed of, Minho reminds himself as he swallows down a lump in his throat and the tingling in his fingers start to intensify. There's no shame in it anyways, it's just something out of his control, but he's sitting across from Jisung— mild-mannered when it's important, thoughtful and kind. An orphan like him. 

Still, it's hard to deny that there is a feeling of shame there. Of strangeness. Otherness. It's hard to explain why, when everything else about him is stranger and more other than not having parents. 

When Minho finally glances back at Jisung, he's just looking at Minho quietly. The look he wears is hard to place. Jisung is usually fairly easy to read; when he's happy his whole face lights up, dark eyes impossibly wide and shiny, smile wide and heart-shaped and downright infectious. When he's sad or tired he's quiet, withdrawn, lets Minho carry the conversation while he listens. When he's anxious he fidgets, whole body moving like it will help him. 

Jisung is strangely still now, however. His expression is caught between what Minho thinks is several different emotions, something that makes it impossible to pick out what it is exactly that Jisung is thinking. 

Maybe that makes sense, Minho thinks with a touch of sorrow, because things aren't always one clean-cut emotion, especially something as muddled as this. Jisung knows that just as well as Minho does. 

"You can ask," Minho says finally, after the silence stretches on between them long enough that it starts to make his skin itch. 

Jisung still seems hesitant. "I don't want to pry." 

"I'm telling you it's okay," Minho assures him, taking a sip from his tea. He hopes Jisung doesn't notice the slight tremble in his hand. 

"How did you..." Jisung's question trails off before he even finishes, obviously still worried he'll cross a line even with Minho's permission. 

There's a lot of things he could mean. How did Minho lose his parents? How did Minho end up there instead of with someone else? How did Shiwon find him? Maybe all three. Maybe something else. 

"I don't know," Minho offers, because that answers two of those. Jisung blinks at his words, not expecting an answer to his abandoned question. "I don't remember my parents. I don't remember anyone. My first memories are of being in the orphanage, and there were so many kids... it's not exactly like they remember half the reasons they get kids, especially when they're so young." 

"I'm sorry," Jisung says, voice quiet. 

Minho just shrugs. "Can I be honest? As much as part of me wonders, it's hard to miss something you never knew." 

Jisung blinks, seemingly caught off-guard by that. 

Minho can't help but smile a little at the look of surprise on his face. "So don't go getting all sad for me, alright?" 

It takes a moment, but eventually Jisung smiles back at him. "Alright." 

Minho holds his smile for a few seconds before it softens. He swirls his tea around in his cup thoughtfully, watching the way it spins. "At this point, I think the orphanage is less a sad memory and more of an angry one for me." 

Jisung makes a little noise of acknowledgment. It draws the smile across Minho's face again. It's sweet how he's so quiet, so attentive. It's very odd talking about his past, and not the most pleasant, but with how Jisung's responding with patience it's hard to deny it feels almost... cathartic? 

He feels listened to. That's a strange feeling and certainly not one he'd expect to feel so nice. 

"Honestly, it wasn't that bad for the first few years I remember being there," Minho tells him, shaking his head. 

"Something changed?" Jisung asks. 

"Me," Minho says simply, and he watches fondly as Jisung's forehead crinkles in confusion. "Magic, Jisung. I started to show signs of magical ability." 

Jisung's eyes suddenly go wide, his lips parting as both his hands splay across the table and his head tilts even more like a curious critter. 

"Magic?" he echoes, and Minho can't help but snort. 

"Yes, Jisung. Magic." Honestly, he's thankful for the way Jisung has disrupted the strange, sad mood that's settled over them during this conversation. Minho just continues to smile, settling his chin on the palm of his hand. "Did you forget I'm a witch?" 

"No!" Jisung says instantly, cheeks coloring as he seems to realize how silly his shock must seem. "I just— I don't know, I wasn't expecting magic to come into play until your mentor came along and she taught you it." 

Minho laughs at that. "Funny. What happened is actually the opposite of that." 

"Really?" Jisung still looks surprised. "I always thought that magic was, like... something you chose to do. Like... a profession. And you study it, or..." 

He trails off again, suddenly looking very awkward. 

And Minho really can't help but laugh at that, because he definitely has a solid hunch what Jisung was just about to say before he realized he was probably wrong. 

"Or made a pact with a devil?" Minho guesses, laughter still tinkling in his voice like bells as he grins at Jisung. 

Jisung's blush deepens, caught red-handed. "Sorry. That's just..." 

"It's what they say about witches," Minho says in amusement, shaking his head. "It's okay. I know about the stories. That's part of the reason things suddenly got worse for me when I showed magic." 

Jisung looks positively mortified, lifting his hands to cover his face. "And I just repeated it back to you." 

Cute. 

"Jisung, I really don't care," he says, still smiling. "It's not like you ever met another witch that would correct you, right?" Jisung shakes his head, shyly peeking out from behind his fingers. "Exactly. You know now." 

"Still," Jisung mumbles, slowly dropping his hands back onto the table and still looking embarrassed. 

"It's not like they're... exactly wrong, anyways," Minho says thoughtfully, and Jisung's eyes go comically wide yet again at Minho's seeming contradiction. As if realizing how he sounds, he quickly adds, "That's not the case for everyone, however. Witch is just a broad term for any magic-user and there are infinite ways it can manifest in any one person, just like there are infinite ways to hone and nurture that magic." 

"That sounds... complex," Jisung says slowly. 

Minho snorts. "Well, of course. There's no one way to do magic." 

"Uh-huh," Jisung says, then adds, "Hey, uh, can you go back to the demon thing?" 

Minho rolls his eyes. "Sure. I didn't, and Shiwon— my mentor— didn't, and it is extremely frowned upon, but yes, people do make deals with demons for magic. It doesn't usually end well for them though, as you can imagine, so not many people actually do it. It's just the story that sounds the scariest, so of course it's the most popular." 

"Ah, okay. That makes sense." Jisung nods, seemingly content with that. "So there are other ways to get magic, why resort to something so... dangerous?" 

"Well, the common factor for all the other ways I know of is you have to be born with even the slightest spark of magic. In some cases, it shows itself naturally. Other times it does have to be brought out by intense study of the arcane like you said." 

"You're the first," Jisung says, 

Minho nods. "So, without a spark of natural magic there's next to nothing that can be done short of getting magic some other way, and the next closest way is making a deal with something that can grant magic, usually in exchange for a service of some kind." 

Jisung says, "So... demons." 

Minho chuckles. "So, demons. But that's not all, I really should stress that. There are other... beings, shall we say, that are willing to make deals. It's just demons are the most well-known. Shiwon told me stories about witches who made pacts with fae creatures and even one witch who made a deal with a unicorn." 

Jisung's mouth drops open. "A unicorn?" 

Minho hums in affirmation, taking another sip from his tea. "That's what she heard. And then there's the matter of clerics and paladins who receive their magic from the deity they worship in exchange for honoring their code and spreading their message." 

A long pause stretches between them. Then Jisung murmurs, "I haven't ever really thought about witches and clerics being the same, but when you put it like that..." 

Minho smirks. "It's kind of funny, isn't it? They use the same magic I'm ostracized for and nobody blinks an eye. In fact, the magic Shiwon taught me isn't that far off from the healing magics clerics use, it's just based in nature instead of the holy." 

"There really are a lot of different kinds of magic," Jisung says in awe, leaning back in his seat. Seemingly realizing they've gone a bit off-track, he asks, "So you started showing signs when you were still at the orphanage, right?" 

Minho nods. "A few months before Shiwon found me. It wasn't anything particularly impressive or terrifying— one day when I was playing outside I realized I could conjure a small gust of air. Completely useless except for maybe blowing out candles, but I was a dumb kid and showed my friends." 

"And they were scared?" Jisung asks, voice suddenly becoming quiet. 

Minho's eyes soften as he looks at Jisung. "Don't sound like that. I told you not to be sad for me." 

Jisung immediately offers him a small smile. "Sorry." 

"Stop apologizing." Minho shakes his head fondly. "And I guess I'll just say that after that, they stopped being my friends. Rather loudly." He taps his chin thoughtfully, still smiling. This has never really been the part of his story that makes him sad. Not when it leads up to the thing that saved him. "Anyways, I dealt with that for a few months. It wasn't very pleasant, but I did it. What really matters is that one day, a strange woman came to town selling strange items that could heal anything you could think of." 

"Your mentor?" Jisung's face shifts into a little smile as he looks at Minho. 

"Mm," Minho confirms, and his smile widens ever so slightly. "She heard the whispers in town about the little freak at the orphanage, I'm sure. Came right up to the place later that day and asked to see me, asked me a few questions, then asked if she could adopt me." 

Jisung chokes out a cough, obviously surprised at the quick progression of Minho's tale. "Just like that?" 

"Just like that," Minho confirms fondly. "She just wanted to confirm I was a freak in a magic way and not... as a person, I guess. And she ask me if I wanted to leave and learn magic from her. I said yes, obviously. And after that, they were all too happy to throw me at her when she asked." 

"That's... certainly something," Jisung says. 

"Oh, trust me, I'm aware." Minho shakes his head. "I was nervous, of course, who wouldn't be? But she was so kind to me... and then she brought me here, and the rest was history." 

"Wow." Jisung glances around the cottage with curiosity, like he's looking at it with new eyes now that he knows even a little bit about the person who lived here before Minho. "The fact that she just offered to take care of you and teach you as soon she heard about you..." 

Minho hums before draining the last of his tea, sighing contently as he sits it down on the table with a satisfying click. "If I'm being honest, I've always suspected she was looking for someone young she could train to look over this garden, this village. I never minded it though, even guessing she had other reasons besides pure charity for taking me in. I never doubted her kindness or the fact that she genuinely cared about me, no matter her original motivations. She was a good teacher. A good witch. A good... just a good person. I owe her everything, and if taking over after she finishes her duties here is how I can repay her, then that's something I'm happy to do." 

When Minho looks up from his empty teacup, he finds that the eyes Jisung is looking at him with are impossibly gentle. 

"What?" Minho asks, smiling at him. 

"Nothing," Jisung says, shifting in his chair so he's not leaning back anymore. "It's just... you're very kind, that's all. A good son." 

Silence sweeps over the cottage, and Minho stares at Jisung like he just hit him. 

The gentle look on Jisung's face dissolves as he takes in Minho's expression and complete silence, replaced by unsure, nervous eyes. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. "Did I just say something wrong?" 

It wavers in the middle, the sound of it making Jisung wince and bringing Minho back to himself. 

He blinks, clearing his throat before shaking his head. He drops his gaze down to the table, picking up his empty teacup and getting to his feet. "No. You didn't do anything wrong." He clears his throat again, suddenly finding it hard to speak. "Are you done with yours?" 

"What?" Jisung's voice is still soft and strained. Then, "Oh. Yes, I'm done." 

He hands his cup to Minho, who takes them both over to where he keeps his wash bucket on the counter in the kitchen. It's not unusual for Minho to leave with their dishes and wash them while Jisung stays behind at the table or in the reading nook, but this time the air feels uncomfortably heavy. His gut twists uncomfortably, almost physically feeling the way his mind begins putting its walls back up after briefly letting them down. 

"I'm sorry," Jisung says quietly after a few minutes, voice thick in a way that makes Minho's stomach turn in guilt. 

He feels like a piece of shit. 

"I told you, you didn't do anything wrong," Minho says, staring down at the way the water trickles down between the gaps in his fingers as he holds Jisung's cup in his hands, the one painted with marigolds. "You don't have to apologize for anything." 

There's silence. 

Jisung leaves soon after. Minho doesn't ask him to go. He doesn't ask him to stay either. 

He feels... heavy. But it's different than what he's used to. 

It's strange because for all he's thought about Shiwon and his past, it's an entirely different thing to talk about. And part of him does feel lighter, although it's hard to put a finger on how. 

But there's something else now as well, something he's tried his best to put away for years because he knows it's useless to think about but now weighs twice as much. It's easy to get used to something when it's something familiar, but suddenly it's different and that makes him painfully aware of it yet again. 

He paces around the cottage for a while after Jisung leaves, restlessly picking things up and moving them around in an attempt to use up the strange, anxious burst of energy he feels after their talk. He wastes hours like that, trying to do anything and not actually doing a single thing. It just makes him feel worse. 

Finally, feeling suffocated in the suddenly tiny cottage, he pulls on one of his worn black coats that brush the tops of his boots and plucks the wide-brimmed black sunhat from off the hook in the back and steps outside into the gold-painted garden. 

It's summer now, but the air is cool as the wind sweeps in and makes Minho shiver, tugging his coat snugger as he trudges into the trees. The setting sun hasn't helped any, and if Minho didn't know better he'd think this was the first cool summer night before autumn. 

He sets out to wander aimlessly in the sprawling garden for a while, let his feet take him wherever just so he isn't couped up inside with all this uncomfortable energy and equally uncomfortable thoughts, but maybe he shouldn't be too surprised when he finds himself standing at the entrance to the pond clearing. 

Despite the wind whistling through the trees around him, the clearing is oddly still and silent. Unnaturally so. 

The willow tree stands as it always has, curved in a way that seems both elegant and sorrowful as its branches skim the surface of the pond, sending ripples out into the sunset-mirrored waters. 

He stares at it. Longer than he means to. Long enough for the sun to finally begin to dip beneath the horizons and the first stars to come out of hiding. Long enough that his legs start to get tired, his body aching from how stiff he is. 

He sits down on the other side of the pond from the willow, still looking at it with a mix of emotions he can't even begin to decipher. 

There's a reason he doesn't come here much, despite how deeply he misses her in every waking moment. It hurts. Too many things left unsaid, too many things unsure. 

He doesn't even know why he did come here tonight, this is something he's long since accepted he'll never have answers to. Still, Jisung's words stirred something in him, as much as he wishes they hadn't. He's made his peace with the uncertainties, accepted he'd carry them with him for the rest of his life. 

He just... wishes he didn't have to. 

It's not until the sky above is completely dark save for the waxing moon and the summer stars that he finally finds the courage to speak, and when he does it comes out in a shaking voice: "Was I a good son?" 

_Was I a son at all?_ Minho wonders, not brave enough to even speak that thought aloud to the willow. 

The clearing is silent, save for the faint sounds of insects in the trees and a stray bird call. 

It's not like Minho expected anything else. The silence is all he'll ever have, but... it still hurts, in a way he can't help but feel stupid for. 

He sits out there in the dark for a long time, foolishly waiting for an answer he knows will never come. 

\---

Jisung doesn't come back for tea for another week and a half. He was okay with the first few days, even if the childish part of him ached for company in the wake of old insecurities being brought to the surface. But after five days have passed, he can't deny the way thinking about his conversation with Jisung makes him feel a little ill. 

Not because he talked about his past, or about Shiwon or any of that. Not even because Jisung said something that unknowingly hit a sore spot Minho wasn't even aware was still so sensitive after all this time. 

He feels ill because the thought of upsetting Jisung when he didn't do anything wrong makes his stomach physically turn. 

He hadn't been lying when he told Jisung he hadn't done anything worth apologizing for. Jisung really hadn't. How could he know that would hit the way it did? Even Minho didn't know. 

So the idea of Jisung being convinced he's in the wrong— that Minho just lied to spare his feelings— and vanishing because he hurt Minho is upsetting in a way Minho didn't even realize he could feel about another person. 

He hates himself for reacting the way he did, for being so out of it, for not being firmer in his reassurances. 

Mostly, he just misses him. 

On the tenth day alone, Minho tries to make himself accept that he probably scared Jisung off. It's his fault. 

Alone again. 

When the knock on the door comes and he opens it, Jisung is the last person he excepts to be standing there, much less with a basket of fresh pastries and a small, unsure smile, and yet... 

And yet. 

Minho lets him in. They settle back into their normal places, their normal roles, and Minho finds it strange how easily it all slips back into the way it was. 

They don't talk about it. Minho knows they probably will have to eventually, but for now he's just grateful he's back. 

\---

"What would you do if you could do anything?" Minho finds himself asking one day, the two of them sitting outside in the shade of the old maple tree closest to the cottage, its sturdy trunk marking the path that leads in through the more forested parts of the garden. 

Jisung looks up at him from where he's sprawled on his back, his hands clasped beneath his head. "That's a vague question." 

Minho slowly closes the journal he's been reading, pressing the worn bookmark between its pages as he sets it in his lap and leans back against the tree. "I mean... when you're not with me, you work, right?" 

Jisung's lips curl into a small smile. "Work and sleep, yeah. That's about it." 

He rolls out of the shade then, spreading out in the summer sun. His messy brown hair catches the light just right. He twists, stretching like a sunbathing cat and making soft little noises. The hem of his white shirt lifts ever so slightly as he raises his arms, the sliver of skin above his trousers painted by the sun in shades of molten gold. 

Minho is suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to reach out and touch it, splay his hand across Jisung’s stomach and see if it's actually as soft and warm as it looks. 

The impulse is gone almost as quickly as it came, leaving Minho startled by how his own mind conjured that thought and where it came from as he manages to tear his eyes from that sliver of golden skin. 

Jisung turns his head to look at Minho, hair falling into his face but not hiding the way even his dark eyes have a faint ring of gold around them in direct sunlight. Jisung smiles at Minho. 

"So I guess you're my one good thing, huh?" Jisung's eyes sparkle, and Minho can't quite tell whether the smile he wears is genuine or the stupid one he puts on when he knows he's going to get a reaction out of Minho. 

Maybe it doesn't matter, because something in Minho's chest flutters anyways. 

"Be quiet," he says, because sometimes that's all he can say in response to the things Jisung says. 

Jisung just keeps smiling at him. "Go back to your question. What do you mean by doing anything I want?" 

Minho shifts a little, letting his head fall back against the oak tree's trunk, eyes flicking up to the blue sky and the cotton clouds above. "I was just wondering, I guess... you do mostly odd jobs, right? Physical labor?" Jisung hums in confirmation. "That can't be what you really want to spend your time doing." 

Jisung chuckles, twisting and rolling so he's laying on his stomach now— and like that his shirt is pulled down again, a relief to Minho and whatever part of his brain decided to pull that earlier thought out of nowhere. "I don't know. I mean, it's not very likely for me to do anything else. At most, I guess I can hope to make enough money where I can permanently move into a room down in the tavern or something. And then I can just work in town without worrying about where I'm staying." 

Sometimes Minho forgets about Jisung's... questionable living arrangements. He's still living in the barn loft from what he's told Minho, and while he's glad Jisung has shelter and a place to sleep, he can't exactly say he's happy any time he remembers that place is a barn loft. 

"Don't you want to go anywhere else?" Minho asks. "Do anything else?" 

Jisung hesitates. "I've... definitely thought about leaving. I actually was thinking about it back in spring." 

Minho raises an eyebrow, surprised. This is the first time he's heard Jisung mention this. He didn't expect he was seriously thinking about it so recently. "Oh? Why didn't you?" 

Jisung is quiet for a while, bringing his hand up to his mouth and gnawing on the tip of his thumb thoughtfully. Finally, Jisung says, "I just changed my plans, I guess." 

"What changed?" Minho presses, curiosity only heightened by how vague Jisung's suddenly being. 

Jisung clears his throat. "Something interesting happened." After a moment, he rolls over again, this time onto his side with his back facing Minho. "I just... wanted to see what would happen, that's all." 

Minho laughs at that. "Why do I get the feeling you're being evasive on purpose? Don't you trust me?" 

"That's not..." Jisung starts, trailing off before he finishes. Suddenly he sits up, turning to look at Minho with flushed cheeks. "I want to write stories." 

Minho's laughter comes to a halt, caught off-guard by Jisung's sudden confession. "What?" 

"You asked what I would do if I could do anything, right?" Jisung says, fingers curling through the grass at his sides. "I want to write stories. Tell them... whatever. That's what I want." 

"Oh," Minho says, blinking. "You've never mentioned it." 

"I don't exactly have a lot of free time," Jisung says slowly. "Although... I spend most of it here these days." 

Minho can't help but feel guilty for that. 

Jisung continues, "But even if I did have more free time, I've always been too paranoid to write anything down and leave it in the loft, and it's hardly like I can carry a journal around with me everywhere when I'm trying to work." 

"Why would you... oh." It occurs to Minho mid-sentence. "Those boys. Are they bothering you again?" 

"No," Jisung answers quickly. "They've taken my stuff before, but believe me, I think you did a number on them back in spring. They actually avoid me completely now. But it's just... I don't know. It's hardly like that place is secure. It's paranoid, but I can't help it." 

Minho is quiet for a long moment. 

Finally, he asks, "Do you want to write when you're here?" 

Jisung blinks. "What?" 

Minho clears his throat. "Do you want to write when you visit? Like you said, I take up most of your free time when you're not working." 

Minho shifts the journal he holds in his hands, running his fingers over the spine and letting the pages flick over the pad of his thumb. 

"I have empty journals I use. You can take one and keep them here. I won't read anything without your permission," he continues, face a little warm. "I really don't feel like it would be a big change." 

"Wouldn't you find that boring?" Jisung asks, brows pulled together as he looks at Minho. "I mean— yeah, you work on your studies while I play with the cats or stuff my face with whatever food you gave me or— or whatever, but we still talk. When I write I can't really do anything else." 

Minho frowns down at his hands, voice a little uneven as he confesses, "I don't really mind if we don't talk, I just like spending time with you." 

Jisung is quiet. Quiet enough that it makes Minho worried enough to look up at him again, finding Jisung staring back at him with an oddly touched look. 

"What?" Minho asks, suddenly feeling shy after saying... a lot of words he genuinely meant. Too many, probably. 

"You're a softie," Jisung says, and for some reason those words make Minho choke on his own spit. 

"Excuse me?" He manages, eyes widening as he looks at Jisung. 

A silly little grin spreads across Jisung's face. "I said, you're a softie." 

"I'm no such thing!" Minho objects. 

"You are!" Jisung insists. "You were just soft and sweet towards me— Minho, you really care about me, huh?" 

Face warming considerably under Jisung's smiling gaze, Minho immediately gets to his feet and brushes himself off. "I'm retracting my offer since you're going to be like that." 

"You're fibbing! You like me too much!" 

"Absolutely not." 

Jisung's laughter is loud and warm as he trails Minho back into the cottage, the sound still ringing in Minho's ears long after he's stopped. 

\---

Jisung spends a lot of his time writing when he comes over now. He curls up in the rocking chair in the reading nook, legs pulled up to his chest as he scribbles in the journal Minho gave him. 

They both work in silence more often than not; Jisung on his stories and Minho on his magic. 

When Jisung's over, Minho switches the side of the table he works on so he can look at him. And it's... embarrassing how much Minho finds himself looking at Jisung. 

It's cute, Minho can't help but think, seeing him so focused on something. 

Jisung is cute. 


	2. summer to spring

The cusp of summer and autumn rides in on a chilling wind, one that leaves Minho shivering as he tugs the heavier green jacket he pulled out of his closet tighter around himself. He can't see his breath yet, at least. If the chill came that early, he'd be kind of mad. He already hates dealing with the autumn rush from villagers, the last thing he needs is for it to start early this year. 

The leaves of the forest around the cottage haven't started to change colors quite yet either, although he suspects that's not far away. Maybe a few weeks, especially if this cold snap continues. 

Still, the garden itself is a perfectly crystallized image of the cusp of spring and summer. Beautiful, lush, and green. Flowers that bloom all year, even when the snow falls and covers them. It's a bizarre sight, although he's used to it by now. He still remembers the way he'd gone into shock as a child his first winter here. 

It's in the middle of plucking raspberries from a bush close to the cottage that he hears the creak of an iron gate opening, and when he glances up he's not surprised to find Jisung slowly walking into the garden, looking around for what Minho assumes to be him. 

"Well, at least I know the garden still likes you after all this time," Minho calls out to him with a smile, and Jisung's eyes finally land on him. 

He expects something warm and light from Jisung, maybe a joke about trespassing. Anything, really. 

But the closer Jisung gets, the more Minho's smile fades. 

Jisung looks... strange. Tired, certainly. That's not unusual, especially when he comes to the cottage after he's worked. But this is a different kind of tired, Minho can tell immediately. Jisung wears it differently, like it's heavier, 

He looks exhausted, and not just physically. 

"Are you alright?" Minho asks quietly when Jisung's made it over to him, stopping next to the raspberry bushes. 

Jisung hums noncommittally. 

He doesn't even glance at the berries Minho's picking, which is as concerning to Minho as the strange expression he wears. 

"Sorry," Jisung says instead of giving him an answer. Even his voice is flat, lacking the usual bounce Jisung's words have. "I came up to the cottage and the garden gate opened instead. I figured that meant you were back here." 

"Don't worry about it," Minho says instantly, "it's not like I haven't let you back here plenty of times." 

Together, of course, but when a villager comes calling while Jisung's over it's become the common thing for Jisung to go outside into the garden until they leave. Not that Minho's ashamed of Jisung's company at all— quite the opposite, really— but it's hardly like he wants to cause Jisung any more trouble. The last thing Jisung needs is for the villagers to have more fodder to insult him with, and befriending the witch of the woods is quite certainly that. 

Jisung just hums again. 

"Are you really okay?" Minho asks again, setting down the basket and getting up from where he was crouched. He looks at Jisung with concern, skimming him over from head to toe. "Did you get hurt while doing a job?" 

"No," Jisung says, shaking his head. "I took the day off." 

"Oh," Minho says, frowning. "You just... seem off." After a moment, he adds, "You don't have to tell me if something is wrong, I guess. Just..." 

Just what? This isn't exactly his strong suit. Words, comfort... he's mostly lucked out with Jisung in the past, he thinks, but something feels different than usual. 

It's honestly uncomfortably close to the strange, sad energy Jisung had when Minho shut down months ago after talking about Shiwon— something the two of them still haven't talked about. 

"I know," Jisung says, and despite how tired he sounds there's still a genuine affection in his voice that soothes at least some of Minho's nerves. The look Jisung gives him is still undeniably sad, now that Minho's really looking at him. "I know, believe me. Thank you." 

"Right, well..." Minho clears his throat. "Is there anything I can do for you then? Tea, or food, or... or just company?" 

Jisung hesitates before answering. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it before he finally speaks. "I came because I wanted to ask if I could take some flowers from the garden." 

"Flowers?" Minho echoes, blinking at Jisung. "Why do you need flowers?" 

Jisung's eyes drop down to his boots. "I need to visit my parents." 

"Oh," Minho says, because that's really all he can think to say. 

_Oh._

It's true that Minho's known about Jisung's parents since the day they first started to talk down at the river, but it's not exactly a topic either have them have touched on since. Especially after the Shiwon talk, Minho's been hesitant to touch much of anything related to parents, lest it bring up any buried feelings like it did last time. 

After a moment, Minho adds, "Yeah, you can take some flowers. Take whatever you want, it'll just grow back anyways." 

It's the lull between summer and autumn where he doesn't get much work from the villagers, right before the big rush to prepare for winter. Jisung could take hundreds of flowers if he wanted and Minho wouldn't bat an eye, not when the garden's ever-replenishing enchantment would take care of it. 

"Thank you," Jisung says quietly, eyes still downcast. 

"It's okay," Minho says. "You're my friend. I don't mind." 

Jisung doesn't say anything back, but he does raise his gaze to meet Minho's. The look he wears is still distant and odd, but there's undeniably relief in his eyes. 

"Did you have anything in particular you wanted to pick for them?" Minho asks. "I'll show you to where they grow." 

Jisung smiles a little smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "It's alright, Minho. I don't want to bother you any more than I already am." 

Minho frowns. "You are never a bother. And it's my garden, I know where everything grows off the top of my head. It's really not a problem at all. I want to make this easier on you." 

For a moment, Minho thinks Jisung is going to argue with him. Thankfully, Jisung seems to relent, sighing. "Okay. I wanted white lilies, but they're hard to find here unless I pay out a fortune for them. Some years I'm lucky and saved enough, sometimes..." 

Minho tilts his hat slightly, reaching out and placing a hand on the small of Jisung's back. "I have plenty of lilies deeper in. Come on." 

He shows Jisung to where the lilies grow, helping him pick out enough for a decently sized bouquet of them. They're both quiet as they work, Minho's eyes darting sideways to steal glances at Jisung. He's slower than Minho, almost lethargic. It's a stark contrast to how they usually are. 

Eventually, they head inside the cottage and Minho finds bits of white ribbon to wrap the flowers with, making them look presentable. 

The whole time, Jisung sits in the chair in the reading nook looking half-there, hand absently petting Dori who climbed up into his lap. 

It's as Minho looks at him there that he realizes that Jisung is a bit underdressed. He wears the same clothes he always does— old off-white shirt, patchy trousers. And sure, it's not quite autumn yet, but it will be soon and the wind carries that with it every time it blows. It's chilly. 

"Jisung," Minho calls after debating whether or not he should say something, settling on yes. 

Jisung looks over to Minho, blinking as he seems to snap back into himself. "Yes?" 

"Aren't you cold?" Minho asks, gesturing to Jisung's outfit. 

Jisung glances down at himself, a pink tint starting at his ears. "Oh. Well... a bit. The jacket I own is a bit too heavy for this weather, though." 

Minho hums softly at that. "Do you want... to borrow something of mine?" 

"Ah, it's okay," Jisung holds up his hands. "I don't want to trou—" 

"You're not troubling me," Minho interrupts, gently setting down the bouquet on the table so as to not crush the blossoms. "I have lots of clothes here and I would much rather you borrow something than freeze." 

Jisung seems torn. 

Much softer this time, Minho says, "Jisung. I don't mind." 

"Alright," Jisung relents, slowly setting the cat down on the floor and getting to his feet. "If you insist." 

"I do," Minho says, gesturing for Jisung to follow him down the hallway to his bedroom. 

The door makes the familiar squeak as Minho opens it, walking into the tiny room and turning immediately to the side where the closet is. 

Jisung stands hesitantly in the door, eyes darting around the bedroom with the most life he's seen in him all day. 

"Sorry it's a bit of a mess," Minho apologizes, sparing a glance backwards at where the bed is unmade and there are clothes from the night before crumpled on the floor where he'd lazily kicked them off. 

"No, no." Jisung shakes his head. "It's fine, don't worry about it. I just... realized I've never been in here before." 

"Oh." Minho frowns. "I suppose you're right." 

Jisung smiles softly at that, and now there is a trace of it in his eyes. "You hiding something from me, Minho?" 

Minho snorts. "Yeah, the fact that I'm messier than I seem." 

Jisung takes a few steps inside the door, gingerly picking up the blankets and smoothing them into place over Minho's bed. "If this is your idea of messy, then you would really hate mine." 

"You don't have to make my bed for me," Minho says in amusement. "But no, it just slipped my mind, honestly. Showing you my room, I mean. Not the bed. That was just me being lazy." 

"You? Lazy?" Jisung shakes his head. 

"I know, I know. Witch of the woods plotting his inevitable world domination starting with the village doesn't sound like he'd be lazy, but alas." 

"Oh, you're lucky I never believed that stuff. But no, you're just very proactive, that's all. Lazy isn't a word I associate with you." Jisung comes up next to Minho now, peering into the closet at the row of coats and outerwear he has hanging inside. "Woah. I guess you weren't kidding about having a lot of clothes, huh?" 

"I wasn't," Minho agrees, reaching out to pull the hangers apart so Jisung can get a better look at what's inside. "Just take what you want, honestly." 

Jisung reaches towards the end of the line, fingers brushing over a flimsy white robe with embroidered sleeves. "This is the one from that day down at the river." 

Minho raises an eyebrow. "You remember what I was wearing?" 

Jisung makes a little sound of acknowledgment, thoughtfully running his thumb over the flowers stitched into the fabric. "In all white under the trees with the petals blowing around you, scaring the daylights out of those two? Yeah, of course I remember. I thought you were beautiful." 

Minho's heart stops. 

_Beautiful?_ Minho wants to ask, eyes darting to look at Jisung's face. 

Jisung doesn't seem the least bit bothered by the words he just said, like there's nothing special to them. Like they're facts that Minho should know. 

Minho most certainly does not know. 

Jisung lets the sleeve slip from his hand. "This is too pretty for me, though." He smiles softly. "What about this?" 

Jisung plucks out a long knit robe, simple black and on the lighter side. Perfect for this kind of weather. 

Minho clears his throat, pushing thoughts of Jisung's voice saying the word beautiful out of his mind. "Yeah, I think that would work." 

Jisung smiles appreciatively, sliding it onto him and adjusting it. It's a little bit big on him, although it's not enough to make it too clunky to wear. In fact, it looks rather cozy on him. 

He holds his arms out, looking at Minho for approval. "Yes?" 

"Yes," Minho agrees. 

Jisung smiles again, lowering his arms. Then the smile fades, replaced by a much more somber expression. "Thank you, Minho." 

"You don't have to thank me," Minho tells him, reaching out to gently rest his hand on Jisung's arm before pulling back. 

They walk back to the main room, Jisung gingerly picking up the bouquet of white lilies Minho put together for him. 

"Do you need anything else?" Minho asks softly, rolling the leftover ribbon up and putting it and the scissors back where they belong. 

Jisung hesitates. "It might be asking too much." 

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Well, you won't know if you don't ask me, right?" 

Jisung inhales sharply, forcing out the breath slowly and seeming to calm himself. 

Finally, Jisung says, "Company... maybe. I don't really know if you'd be interested in keeping me company today, though." 

"Oh," Minho says, an odd turning feeling in his chest as he looks at Jisung. 

Jisung holds the bouquet in front of him, eyes downcast once more like he's already anticipating Minho's rejection. 

It's true they've avoided the topic on both their ends for months now. It's... hard when it's something they both have issues with. Unpredictable. It's why they both brushed off what happened after they talked about Shiwon, why they've both been so careful to dance around anything about parents since. 

Jisung asking Minho to accompany him to his parents' grave to lay flowers, Minho assumes, is in stark contrast to the way they've been acting. 

Still. Minho knew when Jisung came back after their conversation that it was something they'd address eventually. Just because it's not pleasant doesn't mean they can avoid it forever. 

"Alright," Minho says easily. 

Jisung blinks, looking up at Minho in confusion. "What?" 

"I said alright," Minho says. "I'll go with you." 

"You don't... have to," Jisung says slowly, fumbling over his words. "I know I just asked, but— I don't want to make you uncomfortable." 

Minho shakes his head. "I'd rather be there for you if you need someone, honestly." 

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to." Jisung frowns at him. 

"Well, luckily I don't," Minho says evenly. "I want to go with you, Jisung. If you changed your mind and want to go alone, I'll stay here. But if it's just you being worried about me being uncomfortable then _don't_ worry about me, alright?" 

Jisung is quiet for a long time, just staring back at Minho with unsure eyes. 

Finally, he asks, "Are you really sure?" 

Minho nods. 

"Okay," Jisung relents. "Just... if you change your mind—" 

"I won't," Minho says firmly. "Do you need anything else before you go?" 

Jisung shakes his head, and with that the two of them set off. 

The path leading down from the cottage, Minho realizes as the two of them make their way down it, is really not meant for more than one person. Despite starting off side by side, Jisung now walks ahead of Minho. 

Neither of them speak, silence hanging heavy over them like storm clouds as Jisung guides them down the path, through the crossroads, and towards the old graveyard on the edge of town. 

When they finally step outside the gates, Jisung turns to look at him. 

"It's a bit of a walk still," he apologizes. "They're towards the back." 

"It's alright," Minho reassures, shaking his head. "You don't have to apologize." 

He still looks a bit unsure, but Jisung nonetheless guides Minho through the winding paths of the graveyard until they hit the back fence. This area is overgrown with weeds and bushes, the gravemarkers partially hidden. 

Finally, Jisung stops in front of one of them, brushing the tall grass aside. 

"They really don't take care of it at all back here," he mumbles in frustration. He sighs, setting down the lilies at the base of the marker and crouching down. 

"Sorry," Jisung says, the word not directed to Minho. 

Minho shifts awkwardly. He meant every word he said to Jisung earlier about his desire to be there for him outweighing his discomfort, but now that he's actually here it's... undeniably very real. And he's not quite sure what he's meant to be doing, if he's being honest. 

Jisung seems to come to the same realization, glancing back at him over his shoulder with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I won't be long." 

Minho shakes his head rapidly. "Take your time." 

Jisung isn't lying, it turns out, because it only takes a couple of minutes before he's straightening up again, taking a few steps back and looking at Minho. "Sorry. I didn't think this would be as awkward as it is. If I knew, I wouldn't have asked." 

Minho reaches out and touches Jisung's arm. "It's okay. Are you done? You don't have to rush for me, you know." 

Jisung nods. "Yeah. I... never really know what to say when I'm here, so..." 

Minho knows exactly what he means. 

"Before we go," Minho says slowly, glancing down at the tangle of weeds around the grave, "I can clear those, make it look a bit nicer if you want?" 

Jisung blinks. "With magic?" Minho nods. "Well... I don't see why not." 

With Jisung's permission, Minho creeps forward, crouching down and laying his hand on the ground. He murmurs an incantation under his breath, focusing the magic away from the freshly picked lilies. As he unleashes the spell, the weeds around the grave immediately wither into nothingness. Content with the way the space around the marker has cleared, he says a second incantation. 

Jisung gasps behind him as wildflowers begin to spring from the earth, blossoming rapidly around them. "Oh! Minho, that's..." 

He trails off. When Minho stands back up and looks at him, Jisung is staring down at the flowers with eyes that shine a little too much. 

"They're out of season so they won't last very long," Minho tells him apologetically. 

Jisung shakes his head, clearing his throat. "No, um... don't worry about that. Thank you. It's lovely." 

Minho lays his hand on Jisung's side as they leave the graveyard quietly, and he can't help but wonder if he's imagining the way Jisung leans into his touch slightly. 

After a while of walking, Minho breaks the silence, voice hesitant. "Can I ask, if it's not too intrusive...?" 

"How they died?" Jisung guesses, and Minho flinches despite himself. The look Jisung gives him is gentle, nothing in his eyes to lead Minho to believe he overstepped. 

Minho nods slowly. 

"Bandits," Jisung says simply. "They were merchants. One day they left me with a friend to take their wares to neighboring towns and on the road they were ambushed. It went badly." 

"I'm sorry," Minho apologizes. 

Jisung shakes his head, sighing. "You really don't have to apologize. It's not like you did it. And anyways, I was very little. Seven, maybe. It's been a long time since it happened, and it's not like it hurts as bad as it used to. It's just... sore, especially this time of year." 

"I understand," Minho says softly, although part of his mind twists uncomfortably as he speaks. He does understand, but that's... not quite where he's at. 

Jisung gives him an appreciative look. After a moment of silence as the two of them walk towards the crossroads, Jisung sidesteps closer to Minho, bumping their shoulders together. Startled, Minho reflexively tightens his grip on Jisung's waist to try to steady himself. It tugs Jisung, sending him stumbling as well. 

They don't fall, but the way they're both sent topsy-turvy clinging to each other for stability makes them giggle. It's a strange contrast to the rest of the day, to their own conversation just a minute before, but Minho can't help but feel glad. 

He was afraid, he can admit now. He was afraid this would turn into another situation like the Shiwon thing, where they were both sullen and awkward and couldn't speak to each other after. 

It's a relief then, that they both seem okay. Maybe it's because in Jisung's own words his pain isn't as raw anymore. Maybe they're just more comfortable with each other now. Whatever the reason, Minho's just glad things aren't bad. 

Their walk back to the cottage is quiet, although luckily it's not as heavy as it was earlier. There's still a bit of a somber air about them, but for his part Jisung seems a little bit better. 

When the path sharply narrows, Minho's robe catches on a branch, making the two of them abruptly stop. Minho stares down at it in confusion. The trail up to the cottage is narrow, for sure, but it's never been narrow or overgrown enough for Minho's clothes to catch on anything, so— 

"Oh," Jisung says, reaching up to tap Minho's arm where it's still wrapped around Jisung's waist, his hand settled on Jisung's hip. "I think this is too narrow for two people." 

Minho startles, pulling back his hand as the tips of his ears start to burn. He didn't even realize his hand was still there. "Sorry." 

Jisung's smile is easy. "It's alright. I didn't say I had a problem with it, did I?" 

And with that, Jisung sets off up the path, leaving Minho staring after him for a few seconds before his body catches up to his brain and starts scrambling to catch up to Jisung. 

The cottage is quiet when they return, none of the cats anywhere to be seen. Jisung sits down at the table immediately as Minho instinctively goes for the kettle and tea. It's comfortable. Familiar. 

When Minho finishes brewing the tea and brings it over to Jisung, Jisung takes it with a soft thank you. 

Jisung brings the cup to his lips, smiling after taking a sip. "You cooled it down with magic already, huh?" 

"Yes, well," Minho sits down across from Jisung, resting his chin in his hand, "I figured you wouldn't care. And it's a lot better than risking me having to put my fingers in your mouth again, right?" 

Jisung stares at him for a moment, looking bewildered, before he seems to realize what Minho's talking about. "Oh! The burnt tongue spell. Right. Right." 

Minho smiles at him, shifting his hand to his cheek. "Why are you blushing?" 

"I'm not," Jisung says, blushing. 

"You are." 

"You're seeing things." 

Minho snorts, dropping it so he can go back to his tea. 

After a moment, Jisung pinches the hem of the black robe Minho gave him and goes, "Oh! Do you want this back?" 

Minho shakes his head. "No, you saw how many I have. I'm not exactly hurting for robes or jackets or anything. You can have it." 

Jisung raises an eyebrow. "Really?" 

Minho shrugs. "Sure. If you need anything else you can take it, borrow it, whatever. I don't really care." 

A funny little smile spreads across Jisung's face. "And when I take all of your clothes because you offered them to me? What then?" 

"Just make sure you leave some for me, at least," Minho says, rolling his eyes. "I hardly want to walk around naked." 

"I'll be merciful," Jisung says. 

"You're so kind," Minho replies dryly. 

"I know." 

Quiet settles over them again. It's definitely less strained now, both back where they're most comfortable; just the two of them in the cottage with a fresh pot of tea and the easy, reassuring feeling of someone else being there but knowing you don't have to speak. 

Today was... strange, definitely. Stressful. Hard. Not in a way that scared Minho off like before but at least in the way where it worried him about how he'd react. 

It really is a relief that everything seems okay, both between the two of them and Minho himself. He feels okay. That in itself is strange, given the way the topic makes him skittish. If he's being honest, maybe he wouldn't be as okay as he is now if it wasn't focused on Jisung. He likes Jisung. Cares about him. As uncomfortable as the topic makes him, his desire to make sure Jisung's okay outweighs that. 

There's still... things he thinks he should talk about with Jisung. Especially given today, when it feels like Jisung's opened up in a way Minho wouldn't let himself do for Jisung before. It doesn't seem fair, although he knows Jisung probably doesn't see it that way. Still, he doesn't want his friendship with Jisung to feel imbalanced in any way. 

Today isn't the right time for it, though. He knows that. He can wait a bit. 

"Hey," Jisung says after a while, both of their cups drained— Jisung's twice over. 

Minho hums in acknowledgment, playing with his bottom lip as he looks up at him. 

Jisung hesitates for a moment, an unsure little smile on his face. "I just... wanted to say thank you." 

"For the robe?" 

Jisung's smile widens slightly, although he still seems a bit shy. "Well... yes. But not just the robe. I just wanted to say thank you for today. For staying with me when this kind of thing makes you uncomfortable." 

Suddenly a little embarrassed, Minho shakes his head. "Oh, no. You don't have to thank me, really." 

"I do," Jisung insists, much firmer this time. "It's just... I'm usually alone, you know? In general, but today especially. So it's just... it was really nice to not be alone for once. And it's been really nice to have someone for the past few months. I really... I really can't express how grateful I am to have you now." 

Oh. 

Minho clears his throat, trying to find words to respond to Jisung but coming up blank. His mind is whirling rapidly but going nowhere, leaving him feeling like an idiot as he just stares back at Jisung dumbfounded. Touched, but dumbfounded. 

Jisung's soft smile takes on a little mischievous look. He tilts his head slightly, leaning his chin in the palm of his hand as he looks at Minho. "Sorry, I forgot you get overwhelmed by emotions easily. You can ignore that if you want." 

Ignore it? How the hell is he supposed to ignore that? 

Finally managing to muster words, Minho manages to choke out, "I feel— I feel the same way." 

Jisung's face immediately lights up. "Really?" 

Minho clears his throat again, uncomfortably aware of how warm his face feels as he nods, eyes dropping down to his empty teacup. "This cottage is... very quiet. And I thought I liked quiet for a long time, but I think I was just used to it. And I think..." Minho coughs. "I think I like you being here more." 

He still hasn't looked up, but he's not quite sure it matters because he can feel the pure sunshine radiating from Jisung. 

The rest of Jisung's visit is actually fairly quiet, but he lingers in the cottage far longer than he usually does. Well into the evening when the sun starts to sink below the horizon. 

Minho almost asks him to stay the night, but he swallows those words down before they fall off his tongue, holding them heavy in the back of his throat and unable to swallow them down completely. 

\---

Jisung's visits are more frequent these days. He stays longer, settles into the cottage like he belongs there. And in a way, he does. At least to Minho, the cottage has started to feel more and more empty whenever Jisung isn't curled into the rocking chair in the reading nook, or drinking tea at the table, or sprawled out on the floor with the cats. 

It's odd how integral Jisung's become to Minho's life over the past few months. Not bad— definitely not bad, the opposite of it, really— but certainly odd. 

He went from ambivalent to the company of others, content to be alone with his work and his cats, to finding himself staring out the cottage window at the path in the woods hoping to catch a glimpse of Jisung. 

His thoughts are on Jisung a lot these days, if he's being honest. Maybe a little too much. Autumn has swept in finally, bringing with it the rush that always happens before winter as the villagers stock up so they don't have to make a long trek through the snow. 

Minho is busy as he always is during this time of year, spending more time with villagers or working on orders than he spends resting or with time to himself, and yet the whole time, all he can think about is Jisung. 

What Jisung is doing right now. What kind of tea he wants to make Jisung. What he'll make for dinner, as Jisung's been staying late enough into the evening that it only feels fair to offer him a place at the dinner table. What they'll talk about. If Jisung will let him read part of what he's written. If Jisung will help him while he works on rush orders for the villagers, as he's taken to doing to help ease some of Minho's stress with the heavy load. 

Just... Jisung. 

It's mortifying, really, the way this man has consumed his every waking thought. He feels insane. Possessed. There's no reason for Jisung to be the focus of every one of Minho's thoughts, and yet... 

And yet. 

"What are you doing?" Jisung asks him one night, resting his chin on Minho's shoulder and peering over it at where Minho's mixing a potion in his cauldron. 

Minho just about jumps out of his skin, half because of the sudden touch and half because last he checked Jisung was curled up in the reading nook working on his writings. 

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" Minho chides, turning to glare at Jisung and hoping his face doesn't look too red. 

Jisung just grins at him. "Sorry. I didn't realize you're so jumpy right now. It's kind of cute." 

Minho opens his mouth before firmly shutting it, still glaring at a rather smug-looking Jisung. Knowing he probably has no way to win against Jisung, he simply turns back to his cauldron. "Potion." 

"Yeah, I can see that," Jisung says, laughter still twinkling in his voice like bells. He leans in again, body pressing against Minho's back as he sets his hands on the counter, bracketing Minho's waist. Minho grits his teeth, pointedly not looking back at him. "Oh! This is the one that's supposed to ward off bad dreams or whatever, right?" 

"It wards from all dreams, but yes," Minho corrects, although he can't help but be a little impressed that Jisung can identify what's in the cauldron even if he has the details slightly off. "How'd you know?" 

Jisung simply hums, reaching out to pluck the jar of dried rose petals off the counter where Minho left it beside the mortar and pestle. "I mean, I've seen you make most of these orders enough that it's not crazy I can recognize some of them, right? This is just a bigger batch than usual." He shakes the jar gently, the petals rustling inside. "It was these, though. Also it's a full moon and I know you leave this out during one as part of making it." 

"I always forget how observant you are," Minho muses, reaching up to adjust the curtains over the window so when the moon rises, the light will fall directly onto the brewing potion. "You'd make a decent assistant, honestly." 

Jisung laughs, setting his chin on Minho's shoulder again. It's less jarring this time, but the place where Jisung rests still feels strangely warm. "Just an assistant? I feel like I'm already one with how often I help you in here and with stuff in the garden." 

Minho snorts at that, picking up his ladle and giving it one last stir to check for imperfections before he leaves it out overnight. "Oh, really? Then what would you prefer?" 

Jisung hums thoughtfully. "How about... your partner?" 

The ladle slips from Minho's fingers, clattering against the side of the cauldron loudly. He immediately fumbles for it, getting a grip on it once more despite his suddenly shaky hands. 

Jisung laughs, his face close enough that it tickles Minho's ear— which is surely bright red. "Woah! What, was that too presumptuous? I think I'd be a great business partner." 

Business partner. Business. Right. 

Minho clears his throat, setting the ladle off to the side before taking one of Jisung's wrists and moving it off the counter, letting him slip free of Jisung's arms. When he turns to look at him, Jisung is still just smiling at him like he has no idea how his words may be misconstrued. 

Right. So Minho is crazy. Good to know. 

"I think it takes a little bit more than just helping me do what I've already been doing by myself for years. That's just being an assistant." Minho shakes his head. "It's not like you can actually aid me with magic." 

He reaches out and gently flicks Jisung's forehead, making the other whine and pout. 

"We both know you don't have an ounce of magic in you," Minho says fondly, unable to stop the way his face shifts into a smile at Jisung's reaction. 

"But your enchanted garden still likes me anyways," Jisung reminds him, still pouting as he reaches up to rub where Minho flicked. 

He's not wrong, Minho acknowledges. The garden responds to Jisung all the same like he's meant to be part of it the way Minho's part of it. 

Maybe Minho and the garden have a lot in common. 

"Yes, well, I have a theory about that," Minho says briskly, sidestepping Jisung so he walks over to the rocking chair and collapses in it— careful to move Jisung's journal where it's lying facedown on the cushion first, of course. 

Jisung perks with interest, following Minho over to the chair like a puppy. "Oh? Do tell." 

Minho shakes his head, closing his eyes as he stretches, letting all his muscles relax after hours of either being on his feet or doing mindless work over at his table. "Not until I'm sure." 

"Why not?" Jisung whines, and Minho hears him collapse onto his knees in front of the chair, resting his arms on the side of the rocking chair. 

_Because if I'm wrong it means I'm projecting_ , and that is downright embarrassing, Minho thinks. 

What he says instead is simply, "Because I like to be right." 

"Fine," Jisung says, sounding disappointed. 

Minho can't help the way the corners of his lips curl upwards. Jisung really is very cute. 

He lets his eyes rest for a while, suddenly very tired after working all day. He only means to for a few minutes, maybe ten tops, but when he opens his eyes again the cottage is pitch black. 

It was sunset when he'd finished the potion and sat down, but now it's obviously well into the night. He's been out for at least a couple of hours— much longer than ten minutes, that's for sure. 

The second thing Minho realizes upon waking up is that there is a weight on his legs. 

It's too dark to see at first, eyes not yet adjusted to the night. He almost assumes it's a cat at first— it wouldn't be the first time he fell asleep in the rocking chair and woke up with a cat curled up on him— but as he sits there trying to blink the sleep from his eyes, he realizes that it's too heavy to be a cat. 

Minho tenses, the shape on his legs starting to come into focus right as it lets out a soft breath, all but confirming Minho's next guess. 

At some point during the time Minho drifted off, it appears Jisung migrated from the arm of the chair to laying his head in Minho's lap and falling asleep himself. 

Minho's chest stills even as Jisung continues to breathe in his lap, his vision clearing as he stares down at him. 

Jisung's features are soft when he's asleep. They're always soft, of course, Jisung's face distinctly round in a way that Minho can't help but find endearing even after all these months. But like this, he looks... younger. At peace. 

His cheek is pressed against Minho's thigh, the soft skin squished. His eyelashes are longer than Minho realized— delicate in the darkness. His lips part, another breath leaving them. 

It makes Minho want to reach out and touch him, run his fingers over the curves of Jisung's face and see just how soft it actually is. He doesn't. 

Jisung shifts slightly in his lap, his hair falling into his face and blocking out his features. 

Minho can't stop the little huff of laughter that escapes his mouth as he looks down at him, and this time he does allow himself to slowly reach out his hand and brush the hair out of Jisung's face. He's as gentle as he can manage as he pushes it back, the tips of his fingers carding through Jisung's hair and skimming across his scalp. 

Jisung shivers under his hand and a small smile spreads across Minho's face as he runs his fingers through Jisung's hair again and again, like he's actually a cat that fell asleep in his lap. 

Jisung is cute like this. 

"Feels good," Jisung says suddenly, making Minho freeze up like he was just caught in the act of doing something unseemly. His voice is raspy and muffled by the way his face is pressed against Minho's lap. 

"You're awake?" Minho whispers, a note of panic in his hushed voice. 

Jisung's eyes are still closed, but he sleepily nods, cheek squishing even more as he moves his head. 

"Did I wake you up?" 

Jisung hums in affirmation. 

Minho feels positively mortified. 

Realizing that his fingers are still buried in Jisung's hair, Minho tries to pull it away. Before he can, however, Jisung reaches up and clumsily fumbles for Minho's hand, holding it down in place. Minho freezes at the touch, staring down at Jisung in bewilderment. 

"Don't stop," Jisung tells him. His eyes open for the first time, looking up at Minho with unfocused eyes. He looks dazed, his voice uneven. "Feels nice." 

Minho blinks, the skin of his hand feeling unbelievably warm where Jisung's covers it. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, unsure. "Keep going?" 

Jisung nods, letting his hand drop down to Minho's lap where it curls up in a loose fist on one thigh. His expression is still not all the way there, but he looks at him expectantly. 

Minho's tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, hand still frozen on top of Jisung's head. 

After a moment of hesitation, he starts to move his hand again. Jisung lets out a sigh of relief, his eyes fluttering shut again as Minho cards his fingers through the unruly waves of hair. 

It's strange doing this now. It was strange doing it when Jisung was asleep, or when he thought he was still asleep, but now it's much odder. That was... a moment of vulnerability where he let himself give in to the impulse to touch Jisung the way the little voice in the back of his mind has been urging him to for months now. This is different. Having Jisung know about it, ask him to do it more... it's just strange. 

He really is a bit like a cat though, Minho can't help but think fondly, a little smile pulling at his lips despite himself. 

He experimentally presses down a bit harder, his blunt nails gently scraping against Jisung's scalp. Jisung makes a little whimper and the sound goes straight to Minho's stomach, something in it doing a funny turn at the sound. 

"You know," Minho says after a little bit, fingers still working through Jisung's hair like he asked, "you're going to have an awfully sore neck in the morning if you stay down there." 

"Comfy," Jisung says dismissively. 

Minho snorts at that. "Is it?" 

Jisung nods. "You're a good pillow." 

Minho lets out a little laugh of disbelief. "You won't be saying that when you wake up again with a neck that feels like it's been snapped." 

Jisung gives a little half-assed shrug with no energy in it. He really is already on his way to falling asleep again, Minho thinks with amusement. 

"Okay," Minho says softly, pulling his hand away and making Jisung whine in protest. "Oh, stop that. You'll thank me tomorrow." 

He reaches down and hooks his hands under Jisung's arms, moving him so he's off Minho's lap. Jisung just whines louder at being removed from his resting place, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout with his eyes still squeezed shut. He looks and sounds genuinely distraught, which Minho has to admit is both endearing and adorable. The only reason he doesn't topple backwards is that Minho is holding him up by the shoulders. 

Careful to keep his hands on Jisung for just that reason, Minho struggles up to his feet, his legs wobbly. He's lost some feeling in both of them— no doubt partially Jisung's fault for falling asleep on them. 

"We're going up on the chair," Minho tells Jisung, and he's thankful that Jisung is relatively light and surprisingly pliant in his arms as he lifts Jisung up and settles him in the rocking chair. "There you go. Good boy." 

Jisung immediately curls in on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest as he makes himself comfortable. 

Still smiling fondly, Minho reaches out to rub Jisung's head. The sleepy boy nuzzles against his hand, pushing into the touch slightly before Minho reluctantly pulls it away. 

"I'm going to get you a pillow and a blanket so this is more comfortable to sleep in, alright?" Minho says. 

Jisung makes a sound that Minho doesn't quite understand, and judging by the way his head droops there's a good chance he's far enough along that he's not even processing anything Minho is saying now. 

Minho pulls out a spare blanket he has folded up, a lighter one he tends to use more in spring, and a pillow from his room that he can spare. He does his best to adjust the pillow under Jisung's head, but with the way he's curled up, it's hard. When he drapes the blanket over him, Jisung makes a little noise that Minho can only assume is happy. 

Minho spends a little bit too long laying in bed after that, his cheeks flushed as he thinks about the way Jisung is curled up sleeping under the same roof as him. 

\---

"Can I show you something?" Minho blurts out a few days later, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Jisung as he reads in the rocking chair, a few books spread out before him. Minho's eyes actually haven't processed anything he's been looking at for the past fifteen minutes, just glazing over and drifting off the pages as his brain spins; useless, frantic. 

Jisung's eyebrows raise at Minho's words and the strained tone he uses, a look of concern crossing his face as he looks up from his book. "What?" 

"Can I show you something?" Minho repeats, trying and failing to keep his voice more stable this time. There's a slight tremor to the word something. 

Needless to say, Jisung's frown only deepens. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" 

That's a good question. Minho's not quite sure what the actual answer is, funny enough. 

"Nothing's... wrong, per say," Minho says slowly, absently reaching over to splay a hand across Soonie's side where she's curled up next to him, the burst of anxiety in his chest making him want to seek out the most comforting thing to him. "It's just... I've been thinking about something a lot and I haven't really known how to bring it up or talk about it, or when it would be okay for... well, for me or for you." 

Jisung tilts his head slightly. "For me?" 

Minho's eyes fall down to Soonie's soft fur and the way it slides between his fingers. "I'm not sure if it would upset you or not. Or if it was too soon. Or... I don't know. I'm not good with this kind of thing, if you haven't noticed." 

Minho laughs at his own words because that's a bit of an understatement. Jisung just continues to look at him, a perplexed expression on his face. 

"Well," Jisung says slowly, closing his book— an old book on the language of flowers Minho found stuffed away in one of the piles of Shiwon's books that he hasn't touched in a while because he wasn't very interested in them himself, but the memory of Jisung in the garden gushing over the meaning of roses and secret flower languages made Minho more than willing to dig it out for his friend once he remembered why the concept had seemed familiar when Jisung mentioned it. "I'm not quite sure what you're talking about, but you know that I'm always willing to listen to you, even if you need to take your time. You've done the same for me, it's the least I can do." 

Minho clears his throat. This is so... odd. Odd to think about, if he stops to consider the cliff he's standing on right now, teetering dangerously over the edge willing himself to take a leap of faith. 

"Will you let me show you now?" Minho asks, then hesitates, glancing around the cottage before his eyes fall on the book Jisung has sitting in his lap. "Unless you were in the middle of that— that's okay. We don't have to do it now, I don't want to interrupt—" 

"Minho," Jisung says, voice clear and firm. He leans forward, setting his book on the floor next to the chair. "I can read this whenever I want. If you're ready to talk about whatever it is you've apparently been thinking about, then I want to listen. And if you changed your mind and don't think you're ready, that's okay too. Just don't talk yourself out of it because of me." 

Minho opens his mouth but no sound comes out, so he closes it again. The hand petting Soonie rubs her flank a little faster. After a moment, he says, "We have to leave the cottage for it." 

Jisung's frown deepens, although there's undeniably curiosity in his eyes now. "Really? I thought you were just... going to show me something. Like... bring me something. Where are we going?" 

Steeling himself, Minho takes a deep breath before slowly struggling to his feet, Soonie raising her head to look at him with mild offense as he stops petting her. When he speaks, his voice still sounds a bit funny even to his own ears. "The garden." 

Jisung's curious expression becomes more prominent, standing up as well and adjusting his shirt. It's not any of the worn, off-white shirts Minho's grown used to seeing him in; instead, he wears one of Minho's old but crisp shirts, black and long-sleeved and a tad big on him because of Minho's slightly more broad frame. Over the past couple of weeks, Minho's been not so subtly pushing more of his spare clothes onto Jisung. Although Jisung had originally fought him on it, he seems to have given up now and fully embraced the gifts. It's a strange sight seeing him in new clothes after months and months of Jisung cycling through the same two or three shirts and trousers, but he looks... nice. 

He looks nice, and Minho would be lying if he said he hasn't had more... elaborate thoughts on Jisung in his clothes, but given the circumstances it's a bit hard to focus on anything, even something as strange and heart-fluttering as this. 

"It's cold," Jisung reminds him softly, as Minho turns towards the backdoor out into the garden, ready to fully walk outside without a jacket or even his boots because of how disjointed his brain is right now. 

Minho's body comes to a stuttering halt, feeling rusty and stilted. "Right." 

He pulls the long black coat he keeps on the rack near the door these days down from the hook and slips it on, sliding into his boots. Beside him, Jisung takes the gray jacket off the hook next to Minho's, and Minho's not blind enough to miss the concerned glances Jisung is shooting him as he puts it on and slips into his own workboots. 

The air is crisp as they step outside into the autumn night, the sky dark with only a smattering of stars and a waxing crescent moon above. Jisung shivers beside him, wrapping his arms around himself as he glances sideways at Minho. 

"It's awfully dark out here," Jisung notes. "I haven't really been out here in the garden when it's this late." 

"Sorry," Minho apologizes quietly, and Jisung's eyes soften. "I was going to show you earlier, but..." 

"Don't apologize," Jisung tells him immediately. "I'm just glad you want to show me whatever it is at all. I don't really mind that it's late." He glances around the pitch-black garden. "Is there any way you could light this up a little bit though? Not that I don't trust you to lead us, but I think I'll absolutely trip on a root or something in the dark." 

Right. He can do that. 

Minho raises a hand, drawing a sigil in the air with two fingers as he mumbles an incantation under his breath. As he moves his hand, a streak of soft silver light follows the tips of his fingers, leaving an imprint of the sigil in the air where he drew it. It pulses for a moment before it dissipates, transforming into a ball of shimmering moonlight that floats a couple of feet ahead of him. 

"Beautiful," Jisung murmurs, and when Minho turns to look at him he finds that Jisung's looking back with a thoughtful gaze. His features are illuminated by the orb in a way that makes everything about him look soft and... almost angelic. 

Minho looks away. 

He leads Jisung through the winding paths of the garden slowly, his feet feeling much heavier than they should. Jisung stays close to him, their shoulders pressed together as they walk. It's reassuring. A reminder that he's there, even if neither of them speak. 

He knows Jisung is familiar with many of the paths in the garden now. It's normal for Jisung to follow him outside when he goes harvesting, sometimes helping him pick things and sometimes just staying with him as company. Still, there's one particular path that Minho's always went out of his way to avoid when Jisung is with him— even if it means taking long, elaborate detours through the garden to do so. 

It's not like he's ever intentionally hid this part of the garden from him, it's just... there's something so immensely personal about it, and he's never quite been sure what Jisung would say. If he'd notice. If he'd ask questions Minho wasn't ready to answer. 

Now, Minho is... well, maybe ready isn't exactly the right word. He's not quite sure if he's ready at all, or even close to it. But at the very least, he thinks he's finally willing to try. 

When the two of them step into the clearing, there's a noticeable change in the air. It makes Minho's shoulders stiffen, an unnamable but intense feeling stirring in his stomach as he stares out across the pond at the weeping willow. 

At first he's afraid he's being stupid, but when he brings himself to glance at Jisung he realizes that whatever it is about this part of the garden that puts Minho on edge, Jisung can feel it too, even if he doesn't know why. Jisung's standing very still next to him, an odd expression on his face that seems like a mix of confusion, awe, and... something else. 

Minho's not quite sure how to label the last thing he sees on Jisung's face, but he's certain it's the unnamable tension he feels churning in his stomach whenever he steps into the clearing and lays eyes on the willow. It's not something meant to be put into words, just the strange feeling in his gut that tells him when something is off. Not... bad. Just... off. Charged. Different. 

The silence stretches out between them for a minute, then two. He's not really sure what to say, how to start. Jisung doesn't seem like he knows whether or not he should speak, if it's his place to push Minho at all. 

So they just look. 

The tree sways strangely in the non-existent wind, its long drooping branches skimming the pond. The water looks odd, almost otherwordly. It reflects the sky above like a mirror, except the stars above appear almost brighter, the waxing moon slightly fuller— although maybe it's just Minho's imagination. 

After what feels like an eternity of silence, Jisung's voice breaks the spell. He speaks as quietly as he can, glancing nervously between the willow tree and Minho. "Minho... what is this place? It feels..." 

He trails off, not finishing. He doesn't have to. Minho's sure he knows exactly what Jisung means, exactly how the energy here is hard to explain in words. 

Well. He's here. They're here, he reminds himself as he looks at Jisung, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He wants to get this off his chest, needs to know if any of this will be easier if it's not just locked away somewhere inside eating away at him. 

Clearing his throat, Minho slowly sits down in the grass. The ground should be colder under him, he thinks, because it's autumn. But here in the clearing, the air seems almost... warmer. The little ball of moonlight floats down with him, settling gently on the ground in front of him. 

Jisung is still looking at him with utter confusion, but after a moment of hesitation he sits down next to Minho, crossing his legs under him. 

Finally, Minho asks, "Do you remember when I told you about my mentor?" 

Jisung tilts his head slightly, the light of the orb casting shadows across his face and illuminating his dark, shining eyes. "Of course I do. Shiwon, right?" 

Her name was always going to come up. It had to. That's why he's here. Still, hearing it makes him shiver. 

He nods. "She took me in and raised me, taught me everything I know. Magic, of course, but... everything else as well." 

Jisung doesn't say anything when he pauses, the words heavy in his mouth and hard to get out. He just keeps looking quietly back at Minho, letting him take his time. Careful. 

After a moment, Minho continues, "She was everything to me. And I'm incredibly grateful for the time I spent with her because I don't know who I'd be now if it wasn't for her." He shifts slightly, pulling his legs up towards his chest and loosely wrapping his arms around them, suddenly feeling childish as the wave of uncomfortable emotion washes over him. "I know I glossed over how I ended up alone last time we talked about this." 

"It's okay," Jisung says right away, voice hushed like he's afraid he'll spook Minho. "We didn't know each other that well back then and I... obviously said something that upset you." 

Minho clears his throat, guilt rising in his throat as he drops his gaze down to the grass. "And I meant what I said back then too. That wasn't your fault, you didn't say anything bad. It's just... I have my own problems I haven't worked through and there's no way you'd know about them." 

Jisung doesn't argue with him this time, just quietly waits for Minho to continue, and Minho can't help but feel relieved. He still feels bad any time he remembers how miserable Jisung had seemed after that conversation when Minho shut him out. 

Minho clears his throat again. "I actually only lived with Shiwon for a few years, but they were the years that mattered to me. Anything before the age of nine doesn't really mean anything to me anymore. Whatever I felt before that, once I was with Shiwon I felt... wanted." 

Jisung just nods, humming softly in acknowledgment. 

Minho picks at a stray thread on the hem of his jacket, the discomfort he feels in his stomach growing as he moves closer to the real reason he had to bring Jisung out here to have this conversation. "I lived with her here in the cottage and garden for a few years— most of my adolescence." He brings his knees closer to his chest, his arms wrapping tighter around them as he tugs at the thread. "And then one day when I was seventeen, she started to get sick." 

He can't bring himself to actually look over at Jisung, but he can tell he's gone completely still beside him. There's not a single noise, and Minho can't help but wonder if Jisung's holding his breath. 

Minho clears his throat. Then he clears it again; once, twice, three times. It feels like something is stuck there, but he can't get whatever it is loose, if something's even actually there. When he speaks, his voice has a slightly rough edge to it. "It's not like I'm stupid or anything. Even back then I suspected part of the reason she was so eager to take me in was because she needed someone to take care of the garden and the village after she... couldn't. And looking back on it now, she probably was sick and knew it before I ever even found out about it. But it was such a hard shift out of nowhere, at least to me when it was happening." He shakes his head. "Magic can slow down some things, but even it has its limits. So sometimes I can't help but wonder how long she was dealing with it and I just... didn't know." 

"Minho." Jisung's voice is unbearably gentle when he finally speaks, like he's afraid he'll push and Minho will fall apart like all those months ago. "Can I... say something?" 

Minho takes a shaky breath before he nods. 

"I think," Jisung says slowly, "from everything you've told me about her and your relationship with her, she cared a lot about you. I think maybe she didn't tell you about it until she couldn't hide it anymore because of that. It sounds like she didn't want to worry you." 

"You're probably right," Minho acknowledges quietly, glancing up at the night sky and the moon. "But even now, I can't help but feel a little bitter she didn't tell me. I really thought I'd have a lifetime with her." He laughs breathily then, feeling stupid. "That's childish, I know." 

"That's human," Jisung says, and Minho drops his head down so his forehead is pressed against the cool fabric of his trousers and closes his eyes. 

He doesn't cry. That's just not how he is. He's never been that way, not even when he was a little kid. He's suddenly just... very tired. And very overwhelmed. 

After a long moment of silence, he feels a hand on his arm. It stays there for a moment, hovering like it's not sure whether it's allowed to be there, if it's allowed to do more. 

Jisung is very kind. He is very kind and Minho still doesn't know how to handle this kind of touch, gentle and questioning and meaningful, but it makes something turn inside his chest. 

Minho shifts his arm back and Jisung moves to pull away, taking it as a sign that he's overstepped, but Minho fumbles for his hand instead. He closes his fingers clumsily around Jisung's wrist, eyes still closed as he holds Jisung's hand in the air. When Jisung doesn't pull away, Minho slides his hand until the palms of their hands rest against each other, fingers loosely intertwining. 

They're both quiet as Minho lets their hands come to a rest on the grass between them, holding onto Jisung like he's an anchor to his drifting mind. 

Minutes pass. He can't really be sure how long, not when his only sense of time is how many times he hears his own heartbeat in his ears. Eventually, he lets out a shuddering sigh and lifts his head up, letting his eyes open. 

When he glances over at Jisung, he's looking back at him with kind, sad eyes that make a shiver run down Minho's spine and through his whole body, something he knows Jisung probably feels. 

"Are you okay?" Jisung asks him. "You don't have to keep going if it's too much. I get it." 

Minho shakes his head again, reaching up with his free hand to brush the hair off his forehead. There's still one thing left hanging in the air answered and it just doesn't seem right to come this far and then back out. 

"Okay," Jisung says, and he squeezes Minho's hand. "Take your time." 

He's taken plenty of time already, is kind of the problem. Years of not speaking, not processing any of it properly. It's hard to actually do now, much less with someone he's grown to care about watching him do it. 

So he just sighs again. When he speaks, his voice is hushed. "At the end, I think I saw her work more than all of the years I spent with her combined. She went out of her way to make sure everything was in order for me, so I would have the easiest time possible taking over. She would spend all day working on organizing what she'd leave me, and then one day she was just... gone." 

"I'm sorry," Jisung says, and he knows he told Jisung he didn't have to say anything like that to him when he talked about his past before, but now, hearing him say it about Shiwon, it doesn't bother him the way he thought it would. It stings more, maybe, but he doesn't feel bad when he hears it. 

Still. 

He's almost done, he reminds himself. He doesn't think he's doing awful, all things considered. Maybe he's a little more emotional than he expected, even if it's not by anyone else's standards, but he's made it this far. 

"The thing about Shiwon," Minho starts slowly, letting his eyes drift back across the clearing for the first time in a long while, tracing across the pond to where the willow tree bends elegantly and sorrowfully to skim the surface, "is that she was a witch that prided herself in her closeness to nature. Her magic, her herbalism, everything. All based on her respect for the natural world and her ability to pull from it." 

Jisung's fingers tighten ever so slightly around his, a quiet acknowledgment that he's listening. 

Minho sighs. "Some witches who base their magic in nature decide to become part of it if they know their time is coming to an end. Shiwon was one of them." 

There's an extremely long, heavy pause as Jisung seems to process what Minho just said. He doesn't have to look over at Jisung to know he figured it out by the way he inhales sharply, squeezing down on Minho's hand. 

The weeping willow sways, water dripping from its leaves every time it pulls its branches out of the pond, only to gently submerge them again a few seconds later, dancing to a breeze that doesn't exist. 

"Sorry," Minho says finally, because he's not quite sure what else to say. "I didn't mean to take so long to get to this." 

Jisung is quiet, like he's weighing his words carefully before he speaks. Then he asks, voice barely a whisper like he's realized they aren't totally alone, "Is she— I mean, can she..." 

Minho can't help but snort a little, having a good guess what Jisung is wondering even if he trailed off. He looks over to Jisung and sure enough, he looks more than a bit shocked at what Minho just revealed to him. "Can she hear us, you mean?" 

Jisung glances over to him, and it's hard to tell in the low light but he thinks there's color to his cheeks. He nods slowly. 

"Well, I've certainly never gotten any kind of answer back," Minho says, a rueful little smile pulling at the corners of his lips before they fall back into place. He sighs, shaking his head. "I don't think that answers your question, but it's the only answer I actually have. Believe me, I've spent years wondering the same thing. At this point, I don't know whether I'd prefer it if she can hear or if she can't. I've talked myself in circles asking questions to a tree, I really don't know what's better anymore." 

On one hand, there's something undeniably reassuring about her still being here in some way. On the other, it leaves... a bad taste in his mouth to think about the idea of her being able to hear him and never answering him in any way. He knows that's stupid. That's not how it works. It's childish. 

It doesn't matter how childish it is. It's how he feels. 

When he looks over at Jisung again, his mouth is slightly parted like he's about to say something. Then he closes it, lips pressed together so tightly his top one almost entirely disappears. 

"You want to say something," Minho observes out loud, not a question. 

There's definitely a splash of color on Jisung's cheeks now. He ducks his head slightly, almost apologetically. "I don't want to overstep." 

"I won't freak out and shut you out like last time," Minho reassures, and he feels... strangely confident in that. There's discomfort talking about this, sure, but there isn't the same frantic impulse to put all of his walls back up and pretend this moment of extreme vulnerability didn't happen like last time. "You can say whatever it is. I want to hear it." 

Jisung still hesitates, glancing between Minho and the weeping willow. Eventually, ever so slowly, he begins to speak. Every word sounds like it's physically painful leaving his mouth, careful and worried about what he's saying being wrong. "When I... upset you all those months ago, because I told you I thought you were—" He hesitates again, looking at Minho for permission to keep speaking. Minho nods, fingers tightening around Jisung's. "When I told you that you seemed like a good son to me, did I upset you because that's one of the questions she never answered?" 

Ah. Well, it's not exactly shocking Jisung managed to finally put two and two together now that Minho let him have context, even if it's not the whole problem. 

Minho shifts, letting his legs drop down from where they've been pressed against his chest and stretching out on the ground in front of him. 

Slowly, he admits, "That's part of the reason I was upset, but it's more that I never really knew if I was her son at all, much less a good one. And now it's too late to find out." 

"Oh," Jisung says softly, sadly. 

Minho just shrugs. "That's just how it is. It's not... pleasant. And your comment caught me off guard, but it wasn't your fault. I don't blame you or hold it against you or anything. I think... that's just how it is when this kind of thing happens. You're just left wondering and sore over things you never got to know or do." 

Jisung squeezes his hand. "I think you're right." 

And it's nice to know he's not alone, at least. That the jumbled mix of pain and loss and bitterness he's held inside of him all these years isn't just him. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Minho holds out his hand, palm up and fingers curled slightly. The little ball of moonlight immediately floats over to him, resting in his hand. He clears his throat. "Anyways. I'm sorry I ruined the mood tonight. I've just been thinking about this for a while. I've felt bad ever since I shut you out all those months ago, and I've felt bad that you opened up with me about what happened to your parents and I kept skirting around this." 

"You didn't ruin anything," Jisung corrects instantly, voice firm for the first time since they entered the clearing. The look he gives Minho is steady but gentle. "Thank you for trusting me to talk about this." 

Minho just shrugs again. "You're... a good friend. And I wanted to see if talking about it would make me feel better." 

"Did it?" Jisung asks. 

He thinks. "I feel... exhausted." 

A soft smile tugs at Jisung's lip, a little bit sad and very understanding. "That's okay. I don't really think it's the kind of thing where you're going to feel great after talking about it no matter what. Not all progress feels happy or good. Sometimes it's just... different." 

And Minho does feel different, although it's hard to explain how. Not quite lighter, but more like someone else is there to help him take it. 

"I think I need to sleep for twelve hours," Minho decides out loud. 

Jisung laughs breathily. "I can sleep over and fend off any demanding customers who may show up in the morning while you get your beauty sleep if you want." 

"Please," Minho says, his voice cracking slightly as he thinks about just how badly he actually wants to pass out after this. 

They both get to their feet, stumbling slightly after sitting so still for so long. Minho's half-surprised his legs didn't fall asleep, although he's certainly glad they didn't. They help each other balance, hands still clasped tightly together. 

Before they turn to leave, Jisung stops, making Minho bounce back as the arm connected to Jisung is tugged. He looks back over his shoulder, confused about why Jisung has stopped before he realizes he's looking thoughtfully at the willow. 

After a moment, Jisung bows slightly, head ducking down so his dark hair falls into his face, eyes shut. Minho stares, caught off-guard. Before he can say anything, Jisung is upright again, turning to face Minho with an apologetic look. 

"Sorry," he says, "it seemed like I should at least do that." 

And Minho's not quite sure how to respond to that in words, but something flutters in his stomach anyways. 

They walk back to the cottage together in silence, the waxing moon hanging above, and Jisung doesn't let go of his hand once. 

\---

The bridge between seasons is a finicky thing, something Minho prefers to gauge in real-time rather than by a date written down in a book. 

Autumn especially seems to come and go in a blink of an eye. One day the forest surrounding the cottage is green and dappled with brown, the next its as if someone spilled red and yellow paint as far as the eye can see overnight. In a mere handful of weeks, that beautiful piece of art has given way to the chilly, barren branches stretching out towards the sky like skeletal hands. 

Winter doesn't announce itself with a snowstorm or anything this year. Instead, Minho knows it's come when he steps outside into the garden one morning and the grass crunches loudly under his boots, brittle with frost. 

The magic of the garden is that it grows next to anything all year round, even in the dead of winter. It's always a bit warmer inside the fence, the trees never changing color or losing their leaves. If it's cold enough for the grass inside the garden to frost over, then Minho thinks it's safe to say that winter has found its way here. 

For all that he prefers spring to anything else, he has to admit that winter is a bit of a relief. It's the one time of year he gets a break from his duties and the villagers, most if not all of them too intimidated by the idea of making the already long trek from the village up to the cottage when there's snow and ice on the ground. It's his rest period, a time he spends studying and experimenting and just... relaxing. 

But for the first time ever, Minho finds himself worrying about that path. 

Not about the villagers, really. They can fend for themselves for a couple of months like they do every year— and it's not like they're really fending for themselves anyways, not when they all rushed him in autumn demanding mass orders of their usual to stock up on until spring. He already did his part for them, he could care less now. 

The thing he's worrying about is Jisung. 

Always on his mind, as much as he's embarrassed to admit it, it hasn't escaped his mind that the very thing that keeps the villagers away during the winter could most definitely keep Jisung away from him as well. 

After so many months with Jisung as a constant companion, the idea of not seeing him until spring when the path melts actually makes him a little ill. 

He's in the middle of seriously researching through a bunch of Shiwon's journals for some kind of spell that can melt a lot of snow at once, or keep snow from staying where it falls, or even just a spell that can shoot a ray of fire when the cottage door opens, making him look up from where he's sitting in the rocking chair. 

He's not surprised at all to see Jisung trudging in, dressed from head to toe in his heaviest clothes all layered on top of each other. A gray wool hat Minho gave him is pulled over his messy hair, a mossy green knit scarf pulled over his mouth and nose. Above it, his cheeks are flushed red from the cold. They almost appear rounder too, but Minho's not sure if it's because of how they're colored or if the scarf just makes them look more prominent. 

"You're awfully comfortable to just walk in without knocking," Minho observes, a smile spreading across his face involuntarily as he takes in how cute Jisung looks all bundled up. 

Jisung tugs his scarf down around his neck with a gloved hand, his mouth open as he tilts his head back and tries to adjust to the cozy warmth of the cottage. "If you had any actual problems with me coming as I please, I'm sure you could turn me into a toad or something." 

Minho snorts, shaking his head. "Once a trespasser, always a trespasser." 

Jisung rolls his eyes, stripping off his abundance of layers and slipping out of his heavy boots before making his way to the fireplace at the junction where the kitchen becomes the reading nook. He practically collapses in front of it, holding out his hands in front of the fire. "Yeah, well, you like it when I'm here." 

Minho just hums noncommittally as if he isn't quite literally in the middle of tearing through journals for a solution to make sure Jisung can continue to visit him even through winter. 

They fall into silence together, Jisung warming himself up while Minho pretends to read and sneaks glances at Jisung. 

After a few minutes, Jisung sighs. "Ah, it really does feel like autumn only lasted a second." 

"It was very blink and you miss it this year," Minho agrees, shifting in the chair so he can prop his elbow up on the arm and rest his chin in his hand. "I think it's going to be a cold one this year too, at least going by how early the cold started to come in." 

"It's gonna be a real pain in the ass this year, that's for sure," Jisung grumbles, lips jutting out into a pout as his hands fall to his sides, still crouched in front of the fire. 

Minho raises an eyebrow. "What's a pain? Hard to find work in winter?" 

Jisung laughs at that. "Not exactly. I usually just do basic odd jobs around town like moving things in winter. Work is actually the last thing I need to worry about this time of year." 

"What's the problem then?" Minho asks curiously, tilting his head. 

"Well, this may be shocking, but the barn is awfully cold these days," Jisung says dryly. 

Minho frowns. He's not entirely sure what Jisung's talking about. Is one of the places he does odd jobs during the winter a farm? Slowly, he repeats, "The barn?" 

"Mhm," Jisung confirms, and Minho just squints at him as he tries to think of when Jisung last mentioned a barn— or at the very least one important enough to mention now. "Not like the hayloft is the most pleasant place in the world the rest of the year either, but it's bearable as long as I'm not freezing my ass off." 

Hayloft? 

After a moment of staring at Jisung dumbly, it clicks into place. 

"Han Jisung!" Minho shouts, and Jisung jumps, toppling over in surprised so he's propped up on his elbows staring at Minho with almost comically wide eyes. Minho doesn't mean to shout, really, but the realization he's just had is definitely not a pleasant one and he is most certainly not thrilled about it. 

"The— yes?" Jisung says, bewildered. 

Minho closes his book, leaning forward in the rocking chair and regarding his friend sternly. "Are you telling me that you live in that barn all year round? Even in winter?" 

"Y-yes?" Jisung confirms, staring at Minho in confusion. 

"Jisung," Minho practically hisses, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he feels a headache start to come on. "A barn? In winter?" 

"Well, it's not like I have anywhere else to stay at all, much less in winter," Jisung says, suddenly looking embarrassed. 

"Can you not get a room at the tavern or inn for the winter?" Minho asks. 

"Maybe for a few weeks, but not the whole winter," Jisung says. "Even if I save a lot that year, I still need to be able to afford food, so..." 

Right. Money. That's a thing people care about. A thing Jisung doesn't have very much of. 

"What about the people who let you stay in the barn?" Minho presses. 

"What about them?" Jisung asks, brow knitting. 

"Can't they offer you a room in the main house during the winter?" 

"Uh, well, they do," Jisung admits. 

"Don't you use it?" 

He coughs. "They let me stay there in the winter in exchange for extra work to pay it off when spring comes. I take them up on it when the cold gets unbearable, but if I stayed with them all winter I'd be spending most of the rest of the year paying them back and that's... not very good when I need to make money too. So I usually just grit my teeth and deal with it." 

Minho stares at him, lips parted and utterly baffled. 

What the hell ever happened to basic common courtesy? Hell, Minho bases his entire line of work off of just that, just like Shiwon taught him. He doesn't demand payment for services he very well could be charging a fortune for, he provides it for free with the occasional 'tip' in the form of things from the outside world that can't grow in the garden or be made by Minho himself. If he can provide literal magic for free at all times, the least the villagers can do is provide shelter so someone doesn't freeze to death without trying to squeeze him for every ounce of labor he has in him. 

Yeah. Okay. Minho definitely has a full-blown migraine coming on now. 

"How in the world have you not gotten frostbite yet?" Minho wonders aloud, and when Jisung opens his mouth he feels the blood drain from his face. Cutting him off before he can speak, he adds, "Don't tell me if you've ever actually gotten it. Don't tell me if you've ever come close." 

Jisung obediently closes his mouth. 

Minho sighs deeply, feeling extremely distraught at this new revelation. "You're going to give me a heart attack, Jisung." 

Jisung just looks back at him apologetically. "Sorry. But trust me, if I had a better option than staying in a loft— all year, not just winter— I would." 

A better option... 

Something clicks into place in Minho's head. 

He sits up a little straighter, frown deepening as he considers the thought that just occurred to him. This... could go a lot of ways. Jisung could think he's weird for even suggesting it. It could be a massive overstep in their relationship, could be Minho misreading what their relationship is capable of withstanding. It could be his brain offering up a selfish solution to Jisung's problem, even if it seems selfless. The thoughts of not seeing Jisung until spring are still fresh in his mind, after all, and he really doesn't think he can endure that after Jisung's become such a fixed part of his life. 

Still, he's definitely not enthusiastic about the idea of Jisung spending the winter at risk for freezing to death or indebting himself to people who can't even offer him a safer place to stay because it's the right thing to do. 

So... he might as well, right? And if it's a solution to his earlier fears about not seeing Jisung during the winter, then all the better, even if that might be a little bit of a selfish reasoning— the rest is genuine concern for Jisung's well-being. 

"Stay with me," Minho blurts out before he can stop himself. 

Bewildered, Jisung tilts his head as he looks at him. His mouth parts open wordlessly, seemingly trying and failing to comprehend what Minho just said to him. After a moment, he manages, "Excuse me?" 

Well. He said it. Jisung definitely heard him even if he's asking for confirmation now. There's no use pretending otherwise. 

Clearing his throat and suddenly a bit self-conscious of what he's saying, Minho's eyes drop down to his lap, the tips of his ears warming under his hair. When he speaks, his voice comes out quieter than he intends. "I said, stay with me. Here. In the cottage." 

"You mean... for the night?" Jisung asks slowly, still confused— and maybe rightfully so. 

Minho clears his throat again, feeling like something's stuck in it. "No. Well, yes— if you want, I suppose. But... no. That's not what I'm saying. I'm offering you a place to stay for the winter— all of winter, not just when the cold is unbearable. Until spring." 

The little cottage is dead silent, save for the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. When it goes on a little too long, Minho looks up from his lap. 

Jisung is staring at him like he just hit him over the head with something heavy. 

After a few seconds of just looking at each other, both equally surprised at the offer Minho's set out between them, Jisung manages to say, "Minho... you really don't have to. I don't want to bother you like that." 

Feeling a spark of annoyance at Jisung's stubborn insistence that he'd ever be an inconvenience to Minho, he shifts in his seat so he's sitting up a little straighter. 

Firmly, Minho says, "You're never a bother to me. And it's not like I can just let you freeze in some shitty barn. Jisung, what else am I going to do all winter? It's just me and the cats in this cottage. I don't even get customers because nobody wants to make the hike up here with snow on the ground. Not only is there enough room for you, but... but it's me being selfish!" 

Jisung's eyes somehow manage to go wider. "Selfish?" 

"I don't want to be bored all winter," Minho insists. 

Well, it's the truth. It's not the whole truth, but he isn't lying. He's just skirting by the part where the idea of not seeing Jisung for months makes him feel such a bizarre mix of genuine distress and frustration. Jisung... doesn't need to know that's what the idea of being without him makes Minho feel. 

Jisung stutters uselessly for a few seconds, seemingly loss for words at not just the proposal but Minho's reasoning and affirmation that he's not a bother as well. 

It takes a minute, but finally Jisung seems to get a hold of himself. "Minho, I don't... really have anything to give you in exchange for staying here. Like I said, I'm pretty broke this year. I guess I can help you in the garden once spring comes, but—" 

Minho scoffs in disbelief, making Jisung's words putter off as he looks at Minho in confusion. 

"Jisung," Minho says, "I don't want anything from you except your company. I just don't want you to potentially freeze to death or lose fingers to frostbite. I'd much rather give up space in the cottage for a couple of months than for you to have to suffer in some barn." 

Jisung's quiet as a mouse, just staring back at him. Despite the silence, Minho thinks he looks... less combative? Less stubborn. Instead, he seems to be thinking. 

Jisung asks, "Are you really sure? Because I genuinely don't want—" 

"Don't tell me you don't want to bother me again," Minho interrupts, and Jisung looks a bit ashamed. So his guess about what Jisung was going to say was right, Minho thinks, frown deepening. He really wishes Jisung didn't see himself like that. Letting his voice soften a bit, he adds, "And I really do mean what I said. You aren't any kind of inconvenience to me— or anybody, for that matter— and I'd be happy to spend the winter with you if you're comfortable with that and don't mind being shut in with a grumpy witch and his cats for a couple of months." 

"You're not actually that grumpy," Jisung mumbles, and for some reason that makes Minho bark out a laugh in surprise. 

"Well, that's good to know, I guess," Minho says, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. 

Jisung opens his mouth a few times before he finally finds his words, still sounding hesitant. "I mean... staying with you definitely doesn't sound unpleasant." 

Something warm spreads through Minho's center. 

He clears his throat. "Is that a yes?" 

Jisung shifts, reaching up to ruffle his hair. Then he says, "I guess... if it's really not a problem." 

"It's not," Minho insists. 

"Okay," Jisung relents, a nervous little smile spreading across his face. "Then... yes. If it's really okay with you, then I'd love to keep you company this winter." 

The warmth spreads through Minho's whole body at that, the tips of his fingers tingling strangely. He flexes his hands without really thinking about it, trying and failing to stop a stupid grin that Jisung can’t help but match. 

The next few hours are a bit of a blur to Minho. 

Jisung leaves the cottage almost immediately after their conversation ends so he can grab the rest of his belongings and haul them back to the cottage. Before he leaves, Minho forces him to wait in the living room while he ruffles around in his closet and returns with another scarf that he forces Jisung to wear. Jisung pouts at him like a little kid as Minho ties it around him, but he doesn't put up any more of a fight than that. 

As soon as he leaves, Minho throws himself into cleaning up the cottage. He makes room on the floor of the reading nook for Jisung. His friend spends most of his time there when he visits anyways, Minho thinks he can probably gather up enough blankets and pillows to make a nice little bed for Jisung there. 

In the middle of carrying some of his spare blankets out from the closet in his room, he finds himself pausing in front of the second door in the hallway, staring hard at it. 

He hasn't been inside Shiwon's bedroom in years, not since the days after she became part of the garden when he had to move some of the boxes full of journals she left for him, still next to her bed where she'd spent her last months. 

The thing is, with Jisung moving in— even just until spring— it's hard not to feel bad about not having an actual bed or room to offer him. Especially when Minho knows there's another one in the cottage, completely empty and gathering dust. 

Still, he can't bring himself to open the door, and he's not sure when he'll be able to. He thinks he's made some progress with Shiwon— he talks to Jisung about her more these days, reminisces on things she did with him and things she taught him. It makes the time he spent with her feel more real again, after years of shutting those memories out because they were too raw. It's nice. However, whatever progress he's made, he doesn't think he's ready to deal with her room any time soon. Not when so many of his worst memories with her are those final months in bed, withering away while she did her best to prepare things for him. 

And besides, he can't really reconcile the idea of Jisung being in her room, even if he did have the emotional capacity to make it presentable to a guest. There's just a giant mental block that prevents that from being an option, at least for more than a second of thought. 

Still, he does feel really bad about the idea of putting Jisung on the cottage floor. The rocking chair in the nook was fine for a night or two whenever it gets late and Minho doesn't feel good about Jisung walking home, but it's hardly a longterm option for months at a time. So the floor is better than that, but... not by much. 

He's in the middle of clearing out the hallway closet when Jisung returns carrying a rucksack over one shoulder, breath visible as he hastily shuts the door behind him. 

"Is that all?" Minho asks curiously, gently setting the box he was holding back down in the closet. If that's really all Jisung has, then the space he's cleared already should be more than enough to accommodate Jisung's things. "Or do you have another trip to make?" 

Jisung shakes his head, stepping out of his boots and huffing as he lifts the bag off his shoulder and sets it on the table. "No, this is it. I wanted to get everything in one trip, so I just... threw everything in here." 

Standing up and brushing dust off his clothes, Minho wanders over to where Jisung's opening up the bag. As if on cue, all three cats appear out of nowhere, climbing up on the chairs and table to see what Jisung's brought. 

Jisung reaches out towards Soonie, fondly petting her head as Minho peeks into his bag. 

"Well, when you said you threw everything in here, I didn't think you meant you actually threw it in," Minho says with a snort, looking down at the haphazardly stacked books and clothes and the odd trinkets stashed inside the bag. 

"Not like I have much anyways," Jisung says, rolling his eyes. "I'd rather go in one then have to walk all the way back there." 

"You have a lot of books though," Minho points out, reaching in and pulling out the first one he touches. It's a slim book with a tan cover, a faded red ink forming a rose. Minho pauses when he sees it, turning it over in his hand so he can read the spine. "Oh." 

Jisung gives him a funny little smile. "That's the book that got me into flower language." He takes it from Minho, flicking through the pages. Looking over Jisung's shoulder, Minho can tell that the book's been well-loved by Jisung. Its pages are worn from age and use, paragraphs highlighted with notes written in the margins. "It doesn't have as much information as the one you found in your mentor's stash, but it was good for getting me interested when I was younger." 

"Where did you get it?" Minho asks curiously, tilting his head as he watches Jisung continue to flip through the pages. 

"Sometimes there's a merchant who comes through town selling books. It's not exactly financially responsible, but I do try to buy from her whenever she comes by," Jisung admits, glancing up at Minho with a shy smile. "Usually it's fiction since I like reading stories, but this is one of the few non-fiction books I've picked up. It just caught my eye years ago and I bought it on impulse." 

"Well, it was a good impulse then," Minho says. "It seems like you've read this thing cover to cover a lot." 

Jisung's smile shifts into a grin. "Oh, for sure. I know everything in it by heart now, but it's just reassuring to go back to it sometimes." 

"You're— you're funny," Minho says, and he nearly gets the word cute out before his mouth realizes what's happening and forces a shift. 

That... doesn't need to be said. That can stay in Minho's brain where it belongs. 

To his relief, Jisung doesn't seem to notice. "Yeah, well, it's not like you're much different than me. You've told me about that cheesy romance novel you love so much, you giant sap." 

Minho coughs in surprise, reaching up to cover his mouth as heat spills into his cheeks. He forgot he told Jisung about the specifics of his riverside reading habits when Jisung pressed him about the events that lead to them actually becoming friends that day down by the river. 

Still grinning, Jisung tilts his head slightly as he looks at Minho. "Hey, since we're living together for the next few months, we should swap books. I can read your romance novel and you can read up on flower language— or anything else I have, if you think that's boring." 

The idea of Jisung reading something that important to him kind of makes him a little bit queasy— his brain immediately slams into the idea that Jisung could very well find his favorite book stupid and silly, which he supposes it is but it's Minho's stupid and silly book— and he almost shuts Jisung down before he realizes that despite the grin on his face, Jisung is looking at him curiously. 

Oh. 

_This is as much about me reading his book as him reading mine,_ Minho realizes. Jisung even prefaced it with the comment about Minho maybe finding the book on flower language boring, so he probably has similar worries to Minho. 

Well, the last thing he wants is for Jisung to think he believes his interests are stupid, so... 

"That sounds like a plan," Minho says holding his hand out. 

Jisung's face lights up considerably, grin somehow widening before he hands the book over to Minho. "No pressure to finish it right away or anything. I think this kind of thing works best if you take your time reading and learning from it. Sorry my favorite book is more of a thing you learn from instead of enjoying it as a story." 

Minho shakes his head immediately. "No, I like learning." 

Relief colors Jisung's face. "Well, then it works out. I like cheesy stories, so I'm sure I'll like your romance novel as well." 

Tucking the book under his arm, Minho glances over to where he's piled blankets and pillows on the floor near the rocking chair. "Uh, by the way. I wasn't quite sure where to have you sleep. I know I offered you to stay, but..." 

"Oh, I can sleep anywhere," Jisung says dismissively. "I've spent years sleeping in a hayloft, I can assure you that a heavily cushioned floor in a nice little cottage sounds like heaven to me." 

"Right," Minho says, still not completely convinced by Jisung's answer. 

Sure, Jisung is fine with it. But Minho still can't help but feel bad knowing that he'll be sleeping in his bed while Jisung sleeps on the floor just a room away. 

The rest of the evening is spent getting things in order, with Jisung packing his books away in the corner of the nook and stacking the rest of his things in the hallway closet. Minho cooks them dinner— a simple vegetable stew that he can't help but feel a little embarrassed about being their first meal together now that Jisung is staying here, but Jisung doesn't seem to mind at all. He gobbles up whatever Minho puts in his bowl and even asks for two more servings. 

With the sun setting earlier now, Minho can't help but feel like he's getting sleepier earlier these days as well. After dinner, they sit in the nook and just talk for a while, nothing out of the ordinary despite Jisung's makeshift bed on the floor. 

A few times in the lapses of silence while Jisung pets Dori, Minho finds himself starting to nod off. Each time he catches himself, he startles, nearly jumping out of his skin. 

Jisung must notice because the third time he does it a little smirk spreads across his face. "You look like you're really falling asleep, old man." 

"Shut up," Minho snaps, even as he aggressively tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes— failing miserably. "I'm only a couple of years older than you. I'm not that old." 

"But I'm not the one falling asleep when the sun has only just set," Jisung points out, a gentle lilt to his voice. 

"It's just because it sets earlier now," Minho grumbles. "It makes me more tired." 

Jisung just laughs at that. After a moment, his expression softens, a fond little smile on his face. "You should go to sleep if you're really that tired. I promise you I won't burn your cottage down if you leave me alone out here." 

Minho snorts. "I don't know about that. You seem like a bit of a troublemaker." 

"Never for you," Jisung says playfully, and the tips of Minho's ears warm. 

"That is definitely a lie," Minho says anyways, because it kind of is. "Trespassing definitely counts as troublemaking." 

Jisung barks out a little laugh at that. "Okay, okay, point made. I'm kind of a repeat offender at that, so I'll give it to you." His eyes soften again. "But really, I'm just teasing you. I get it, I'm kind of tired tonight too. I probably won't stay up much longer either." 

Minho shifts, stretching the muscles in his back and grimacing at the way one of them audibly pops. Jisung just keeps on smiling, mercifully not commenting. 

"Are you really okay with sleeping on the floor?" Minho asks again, for what must be the fourth time, and Jisung just laughs again. 

"Yes, Minho, for the last time. I'm comfortable here." He shakes his head fondly. "Honestly, you have a bigger problem with me sleeping on the floor than I do." 

"It just doesn't seem fair," Minho grumbles. 

Jisung lets out a huff of amusement. "Well, if you figure something else out you can get back to me. Until then, I have absolutely no issues with sleeping down here." 

When Minho opens his mouth the speak, Jisung reaches out and waves him off. 

"Ah, ah, that's enough," Jisung tells him, and Minho rolls his eyes at how the tone of voice he's using with him is the one he uses on Dori when she gets into something she's not supposed to. "Go to bed before you pass out on the floor with me!" 

"Alright, alright," Minho relents, struggling up to his feet. He's grateful that his joints don't crack. "I'm going, I'm going. Sorry for making sure you're comfortable." 

Jisung just snorts. "Thanks for caring, now shoo!" 

Maybe it's for the best that Jisung waves him away because by the time he makes his way down the hall to his bedroom he is dead on his feet. It really is a wonder he didn't fall asleep on the floor with Jisung like he said. 

Still, for all of Jisung's insistence that he's fine, Minho can't help but feel bad as he changes into his nightclothes and lays down on his bed, not sliding under the covers quite yet. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, frowning up at the ceiling. He just doesn't like that he's making Jisung sleep on the floor, no matter what Jisung tries to say about being comfortable. 

But Jisung was right earlier when he said that Minho would have to come up with some kind of alternative, and there really isn't one. Shiwon's room is out of the question, so the next obvious choice is the floor in the nook. Beyond that, there's only one other bed in the house, which is the one Minho is currently laying in— 

Oh. 

Hmm. 

Well, there's... certainly an option he didn't think about before. Although in his defense, as much as his thoughts about Jisung have strayed to increasingly non-platonic places in the past couple of months, it's not like he invited Jisung into his home with the intention of getting him into bed or anything. 

In fact, the very thought of this new option makes his face feel like it's on fire. It seems to skip right past his ears this time, both his cheeks heating up at once as he reaches up to press his palms against them, his heartbeat suddenly loud in his own head. 

But still. It is an option. And if his main problem with Jisung sleeping on the floor is how unfair it is that Minho is sleeping in a bed, this... definitely is the fairest option. 

There are two problems, however. 

One: would Jisung think he was weird if he suggested it? Probably. Gross? Maybe. Would he think Minho offered him a place for the winter for other reasons, not just because he genuinely cares about him? Quite possibly, and that thought makes Minho feel a bit ill. 

Two: even if Jisung says yes, would Minho be able to deal with it? Sure, it's not like he has any ulterior motives about this, but the feelings he has for Jisung— whatever they are, he still doesn't totally comprehend them— are there, and he's really not excited about the idea of them making it an uncomfortable or unpleasant experience. 

Minho bites his lip, staring up at the ceiling. After what feels like hours of going back and forth agonizing over it, he forces himself to sit up, taking a deep breath. 

Fuck it. 

When he shuffles out of his room, the rest of the cottage is dimmed. The fireplace is still going, although it's much lower— the Everburning Charm hanging above it ensuring it will safely burn for the next week or so before he has to make a new one. 

Jisung has moved down from the rocking chair to the pile of blankets, not laying down yet. Instead, he's sitting cross-legged in the middle of them, a book propped open in front of him as he squints down at it in the low light. 

He must hear Minho's soft footsteps, because he looks up at him, a look of surprise on his face. "Minho? What's wrong? Did you leave something?" 

Awkwardly, Minho shakes his head, wringing his hands in front of him. "Uh, no. I just was thinking about what you said earlier, about how I'd have to come up with an alternative if I didn't want you to sleep on the floor." 

Jisung's eyebrows shoot up at that, head tilting slightly. "If you're going to tell me you'll sleep on the floor so I can take the bed or something, I don't want you to do that." 

Well... that's not quite it. 

He shifts from one foot to the other, clearing his throat. "No. But I did think of another option." 

Jisung looks at him curiously. "Oh?" 

He's sure his face must be bright red, but hopefully the dim light of the cottage hides it so it isn't nearly as obvious. "You can say no if you're not comfortable. It... might seem weird to you, and I understand." 

"Spit it out already," Jisung says, and even from here Minho can see the amused expression he wears. "Whatever it is can't be that weird." 

Minho just clears his throat again, eyes dropping down to a patch of darkness the fireplace doesn't quite illuminate. "The other option I thought of is you can share the bed with me." 

Whatever Jisung was expecting Minho's alternative to be, it obviously wasn't this. The cottage is completely silent after Minho speaks, and when he raises his gaze to gauge Jisung's reaction he's looking at Minho with wide eyes and parted lips. 

Quickly, Minho adds, "Like I said, you can say no. It's just an option and I thought I should offer it. And it's not like my bed is small or anything, it could easily fit both of us. But— but don't feel like you have to, I know sleeping with me isn't that appealing, I'm sure." 

And for some reason, that's what seems to snap Jisung out of it. He scoffs at Minho's words, the shocked look sliding off his face only to be replaced with an expression Minho can't read. 

After a moment, Jisung asks, "Are you serious?" 

Shifting uncomfortably in the hallway, Minho says, "It's a serious offer, but like I said, I understand if it's too weird and you're more comfortable sleeping out here." 

He really does expect Jisung to say no. Just... flat out reject him. Laugh in his face maybe. Insist that he's being a creep, overstepping boundaries. He really does just expect Jisung to echo back what the stupid voice in his head has been telling him since this idea occurred to him— fuck, ever since he started to realize he didn't have just friendly feelings for Jisung. 

Instead, much to his shock, Jisung says, "Okay." 

Minho jolts at that one word, reeling back in shock. "What?" 

He's sure he's misheard. He's sure _Jisung_ misheard, misunderstood. 

The expression Jisung wears clears, settling into something that seems... friendly? Almost amused. "I said okay. If you're actually offering and you're comfortable with that, then sure. I don't mind sleeping in your bed." 

"Oh," Minho says, knowing he must sound absolutely stupid in his shock. This... was not how he was expecting this to go. At all. And even in the far off scenario he came up with where Jisung agreed to it, he didn't expect him to do it so... easily? Readily? "Uh. Well... okay." 

Jisung looks at him curiously. "Did you change your mind?" 

Startled, Minho frantically shakes his head. "No, I just— you know what? Nevermind. I'll... go make some room." 

And with that, he turns around and scurries back to his bedroom before he can make a fool of himself further. 

Despite the excuse he gave to get out of there and clear his head, there isn't very much to do. He shifts the pillows on his bed so they're in two piles further apart then sits down on the edge of the bed, pressing his fingers to his temples. 

What the fuck has he gotten himself into? 

A few minutes pass before there's a knock on his door. 

Clearing his throat, Minho says, "Come in." 

The door opens as Jisung peaks his head inside, curiously looking around the bedroom. Minho had summoned one of his floating balls of moonlight while he waited, dimming the light down so it isn't too harsh but so it's hopefully easier for Jisung to move around. 

Jisung closes the door behind him. "Are you really okay with this?" 

"Are you?" Minho presses again, because he still can't believe he said yes at all. 

The floating light illuminates the soft curves of Jisung's face as he smiles at him. "Yeah. The only reason I'm asking is you look almost like you're regretting offering it." 

Does he? Regret isn't exactly how he feels, it's more... shock and a strange, swirling anxiety in the pit of his stomach that this is going to go poorly and he's going to make Jisung uncomfortable somehow. But Jisung doesn't seem to have any of those reservations, and that's half reassuring and half terrifying because that means if Minho does fuck up somehow it'll be even worse. 

"I don't regret it," Minho says, hoping to convince himself at the same time. 

Jisung takes a few steps closer to him then, still smiling. "Okay. So what side is mine?" 

Realizing that he's still just sitting on the edge of the bed, Minho hastily clambers over to the other side, leaning back against the headboard. "I usually roll over onto this side anyways, so..." 

Jisung sits down on Minho's bed, the mattress squeaking under him. "That sounds good to me." Then he shoots a curious look at the floating light. "Do you usually sleep with that out?" 

"What?" Minho blinks at him, then realizes what he's asking. It feels like his brain is running slow right now, suddenly overwhelmed by Jisung's proximity as it starts to really hit him what's happening. "Oh! No. I just had it out so you could see." 

Jisung grins at him. "Well, I'm in bed. You can put it out now." 

"Right," Minho says, quickly waving his hand and snuffing out the light, leaving them in darkness. 

A moment passes before Minho remembers that yes, they are here to sleep. For some reason his brain won't run automatically the way it usually does, he has to force every single one of his actions. He climbs under the blankets, hearing Jisung doing the same thing next to him. 

The room is silent. 

He should sleep. He's tired. He was tired? Well, this is a slight problem. 

He was tired before, but suddenly now that he's laying in bed next to Jisung it feels like he had a shock of electricity delivered directly to his system. He feels wide awake, and despite the voice in his head telling him to just leave it alone and go to bed, the other voice in his head that's been increasingly hard to ignore these days is incredibly insistent about talking to Jisung in this strange new setting. 

He decides to let the second one win, mostly because... well, it feels too awkward trying to sleep like Jisung isn't right there. And besides, it's not like he doesn't have anything to talk about. There has been something in the back of his mind for a while now. 

“Can I ask you something I've been thinking about?” Minho shifts on the bed, turning to face Jisung. 

To his surprise, Jisung is already looking at him despite still laying on his back, his dark eyes reflecting the moonlight leaking in through the window. His voice is soft. “Ask what?” 

“Did you drop your ring on purpose? That day in the garden when we first met, I mean. So you could come back and t— to see the garden again?” He cuts himself off before he finishes the original thought, even as he speaks feeling like he’s being too full of himself. 

Even in the darkness of the bedroom with the only light a sliver of pale moonlight, Minho can see the way Jisung’s mouth curls into a little smile. “Do you really think I was that desperate to talk to you, Minho?” 

Minho’s face heats up immediately, clearing his throat as he glances up at the ceiling. 

So it doesn’t matter if he changes his words. Jisung knows what he’s getting at anyway. 

“I am pretty great,” he shoots back, knowing the only way to handle Jisung’s playful comments and deceptively keen eye is to play it off. “Really, who could blame you if you came up with some convoluted scheme to see me again?” 

“You make a fair point.” Jisung’s face softens. When he speaks again, his voice is much quieter. “But no, I didn’t drop it on purpose to use it as an excuse to come back and see you or the garden— no offense.” 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Minho says instantly, even as a very tiny part of him can’t help but be a little bit disappointed that Jisung didn’t come up with a dumb excuse to meet him again after everything was said and done with the trespassing business. 

“The ring is the one thing I own that I wouldn’t mess around with. It’s the only thing I really own with value— emotional value, I mean.” 

“You’ve never actually explained what it is.” 

“Do you have a guess?” 

“When I first saw it, I just thought it was something shiny and expensive you didn’t want to lose. Or maybe you were saving it to give to some village girl.” Jisung snorts at that, and Minho wonders what he said that’s so funny. He must give him a quizzical look because Jisung just shakes his head slightly like it’s nothing. “But now I’d probably guess… your parents?” 

Jisung nods slowly. “It’s my mother’s wedding ring. Really the last part of her I have left. Whatever they had before they… before things went poorly on the road, either it was sold by the couple looking after me when I was still a kid or I sold it when I was old enough to be on my own. But this… I couldn’t ever give this away I don’t think, not if you offered me all the gold in the world.” 

"I understand that," Minho says quietly. 

A moment of silence passes. Then Jisung asks, "Why are you so chatty all of a sudden? I thought you were tired?" 

Minho clears his throat, shifting slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Oh... you know..." 

"Were you nervous about sleeping with me?" Jisung asks nonchalantly, and Minho chokes on his own spit. Jisung laughs at Minho's reaction, seemingly getting all the confirmation he needed from that. "It's okay, really. It's kind of weird sleeping in the same bed as someone else." 

"You're putting words in my mouth," Minho manages to mumble after a minute, even if those words happen to be correct. 

Jisung snorts. "It's fine, I mean it." He shifts onto his side then, back to Minho so he can't see his face anymore. "I'm comfortable with you. However weird it is at first, I think I like it. It's nice knowing you're there." 

Minho opens his mouth and no words come out, just a half-strangled sound that's much closer to what his head sounds like after what Jisung just said than anything actual words could convey. 

"You should go to sleep, Minho," Jisung says, and the brat has the audacity to have a hint of amusement in his voice, like he knows at least a little bit of how his words sent Minho's head spinning. "You're going to be exhausted in the morning." 

_This man is awful,_ Minho thinks a little helplessly as he finally manages to tear his eyes away from Jisung's body, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. 

But the thing is, when he rolls over onto his side and closes his eyes, he realizes that he doesn't feel as stiff and worried as he did earlier. He feels... relaxed? Maybe a little nervous still, but definitely more relaxed. 

It's funny, he can't help but think. It's funny that as easily as Jisung can make him nervous sometimes, he can make him comfortable just as easily. 

\---

Minho wakes up once in the middle of the night, the room still dark save for the streak of moonlight painted across the bed. His head feels foggy, his eyes still heavy in his half-conscious state. 

He blinks groggily only to startle when his vision clears enough to process the person next to him. He’s never slept beside anyone before, and the shock of it all, the unfamiliarity, takes a moment before it wears off as he remembers he fell asleep knowingly— and eagerly, the little voice in the back of his head that’s been getting more and more persistent these days reminds him— with his guest. 

Jisung breathes deeply beside him, the rise and fall of his chest a sign of what Minho hopes to be a peaceful sleep. 

He certainly looks content, Minho thinks with amusement as he lifts his head up, propping his cheek up on his hand as he looks fondly at Jisung. 

Jisung’s perpetually ruffled brown hair is a bigger mess than Minho has ever seen it before. A case of bedhead for sure. His mouth hangs wide open, drooling a little bit onto Minho’s pillow. It should probably gross him out, especially since he’s so close to him, but instead all Minho can think to do is scoot closer to Jisung. 

Maybe it’s the total darkness of the room that makes him feel safe, just the moon peeking in on them reassuringly. Maybe it’s Jisung himself. Or maybe it’s just cold. 

The reason doesn’t really matter to Minho; all that matters is for the first time in a very long time, he feels safe, secure, and— above all else— not a hint of loneliness. Whatever walls he’s put up over the years to protect himself and keep himself sane from the mind-numbing isolation, whatever defenses Jisung’s worked to pull down over the past few months… in the silence of his bedroom, the only sound the steady in and out of Jisung’s breath, Minho feels completely vulnerable as he presses himself closer to Jisung. Close enough to touch if he wants. 

(And he does want, he thinks, he wants a lot of things that he didn’t realize he did until Jisung, but he’s half-asleep and trying to think about the rush of feelings and desires makes his head hurt.) 

He doesn’t touch him. Instead he curls up just short of it, close enough that he can still feel the warmth radiating off of Jisung. 

Minho wants… he just wants. 

\---

The first two weeks of living together go a lot smoother than Minho expected. 

He thought things would be more awkward, that it would feel out of place having someone else in his home every hour of the day. Much to his shock, he finds that Jisung living with him changes next to nothing at all. Sure, he's in the cottage all the time now, but it isn't actually the biggest change. If anything, it's just made Minho realize how much time Jisung was spending with him by the time autumn rolled around. 

And as for sharing a bed with Jisung... well, he expected that to be far more awkward as well. And sure, there are times when Jisung rolls a little closer to him than he's used to and his traitorous little heart starts beating faster while his mind wanders places it really, really shouldn't when he's so close to Jisung. But besides that? It's strangely nice. 

Jisung seems to run a little bit later than Minho does and more often than not, Minho finds himself retiring to bed while Jisung stays out in the rocking chair and reads or writes. 

Sometimes, though, Jisung will follow him to bed. When that happens, Minho finds himself fighting off sleep to talk to Jisung into the wee hours of the night, even after telling Jisung he's tired. 

And Minho feels warm when he's in bed with Jisung. Not just because of the mountains of blankets that he seems to add every day, but Jisung makes him feel warm. Knowing that Jisung is there beside him, that they can easily talk for hours in hushed whispers until they both fall asleep... it makes Minho feel strange in a way he's never felt before, not even with Jisung before this. 

Whatever is happening now, his relationship with Jisung feels different— more intimate— although he can't be sure if it's all in his head or if Jisung feels the shift that's happened as well, or, or— 

Well, it's not like Minho's brave enough to outright ask him. 

Whatever intimacy they share at night, their waking hours hold a certain kind of cozy warmth as well, although it's a much more familiar kind. 

Although in previous years Minho's kept himself busy in winter by experimenting with magic he's too busy to try during other parts of the year, Minho finds himself spending a lot of time going through Jisung's book on the language of flowers. Despite being wary of it when Jisung first brought it up all those months ago, Minho has to admit that the more he reads, the more he understands why Jisung finds it so fascinating. 

Sure, the whole thing might be needlessly complex and often pointless and petty, but Minho can definitely see the appeal of it. There's something incredibly intriguing about being able to bundle together the right kinds of flowers in the right colors and pass them along to someone with a trained eye and have them understand whatever covert message you were trying to convey to them. 

"Why are marigolds so depressing?" Minho asks Jisung one evening when they're laying in bed together, the blankets pulled up to their chest. 

Jisung looks up from where he's reading his own book— Minho's romance novel, three-fourths done although Minho knows Jisung very well could've finished it by now if he wasn't trying to pace himself so he'll finish around the same time Minho finishes the book of flower language. 

Jisung wears an amused expression as he leans closer to Minho, their shoulders brushing as he looks at the page Minho is open to with a detailed drawing of a marigold and notes on common meanings and various floral arrangements they can be used in. "Oh, you got to one of my favorites in there." 

Minho raises an eyebrow at him. "Your favorite is the flower that represents," he clears his throat, reading directly from the book, _"grief, despair, cruelty, and jealousy?"_

Jisung just laughs, reaching out to touch the worn page and running his fingers over where he's scribbled notes in the margins of the page in the past, maybe years ago judging by the way some of the ink has faded. "I know, I know. A bit morbid. I just think it's interesting that people chose to associate something so bright and beautiful and golden with such a sad meaning." 

"It seems like a waste of a flower," Minho says, studying the illustration as part of his brain starts pulling up the exact location of marigolds in the garden the same way it does when he sees any flower. Jisung's fondly called him an encyclopedia before, able to rattle off everything about any kind of plant he can find in the garden. Well, this book certainly is adding to what he has memorized. 

"You think so?" Jisung is still smiling gently. 

Minho looks up at him curiously. "What? You don't think so?" 

Jisung just shrugs. "Not really. I think... just because those are sad emotions, that doesn't mean they're bad. They're still just human emotions, and at the end of the day I think it's kind of perfect that a flower this bright represents some of them. Sometimes that's just how it is, right? Not everyone wears their less happy emotions on their sleeve." 

Well... that's true enough, Minho admits begrudgingly, because he's not exactly a contradiction to what Jisung's saying in the slightest. 

"Still," Minho says, running his thumb along the side of the book, "it's still a depressing thing to have as your favorite flower." 

Jisung just laughs again before he corrects, "I said it's one of my favorite flowers. I like roses too, but you knew that already." 

He did. He'd be a liar if he pretended like Jisung's reaction to the roses those first couple of days after they met hasn't been stuck in the back of his head ever since. 

The expression Jisung wears softens slightly, and he holds out his hands to Minho. "I can show you my other favorite one if you want. Besides marigolds and roses, I mean." 

Interest piqued, Minho hands him the book. He watches as Jisung expertly flips through it until he's towards the back at flowers Minho hasn't gotten to yet. He hands it back to Minho. 

"Violets?" Minho says in surprise, looking down at the drawing on the page. 

Jisung just hums softly, picking up Minho's romance novel again and starting to read. "I like the white ones specifically." 

Minho skims over the more general notes and the meanings of a couple other colors, his eyes landing on the last section. 

_White Violets: Let's take a chance on happiness._

For some reason reading that one short phrase makes something flutter in his stomach, and when he looks back up at Jisung to maybe vocalize the tiny voice in the back of his head wondering whether there's any meaning to pointing this out to him, Jisung is busy reading again. 

When he finally falls asleep a few hours later, he dreams of Jisung in a bed of white violets, his fingers tangled loosely with Minho's and the sweetest smile on his face. 

\---

Just like he tends to fall asleep before Jisung does, Minho has a tendency to wake up earlier than him. He usually spends the time he's awake before Jisung working on basic crafting to wake himself up, constructing simple charms or setting out ingredients for more complex projects he wants to attempt later. He leaves Jisung to sleep, knowing his friend will eventually stumble out of bed a couple of hours after him. 

He's midway through hazily brewing a pot of lavender tea when he finally looks out through the window of the cottage out into the garden, and when he processes the blinding scene in front of him he freezes in place. 

Overnight, a blanket of white has fallen over everything, the first snowfall of the year. 

Now, Minho likes to think he acts his age. Older than his age, actually, and he always has. 

But there's something so wonderful about waking up to the world covered in snow for the first time, he can't help the childish burst of excitement that spreads through his body, a giant lopsided grin on his face as he makes a beeline back to the bedroom. 

Jisung is still curled up under the heavy blankets fast asleep, legs pushed up closer to his chest so he's almost in a fetal position. That's something Minho's noticed since they started to sleep together, that Jisung tends to curl in on himself when he's asleep. It's really, really cute. 

He wouldn't usually bother Jisung when he's sleeping, but he can't help himself. He hasn't had someone to share this moment with in years, and if he's going to act like a bit of a child, then so be it. 

He leans over the bed, gently shaking Jisung and whispering his name. It takes a couple of minutes, but eventually, Jisung opens his eyes and blearily looks up at Minho in confusion. 

He makes a little noise that Minho can only assume is asking what's wrong, and Minho just continues to grin down at him. 

"It snowed," Minho tells him, unable to keep the giddiness out of his voice. 

"What?" Jisung manages, voice much deeper than Minho's used to— making something flutter in his stomach. 

"It snowed!" Minho repeats. 

For a moment, Minho's really convinced Jisung's about to pick up a pillow and throttle him for waking him up early for something so silly. He genuinely braces himself for it as he looks at Jisung's confused expression shift to one that's comically blank. 

Instead, Jisung slowly sits up in bed, reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes. 

Gleeful that Jisung is seemingly humoring him, Minho can't help the way he practically bounces on the balls of his feet. He holds his hands out to Jisung and he takes them, letting Minho pull him to his feet and steady him. 

Minho practically drags a still half-asleep Jisung out of the bedroom by the hand, tugging him over to the window that overlooks the garden. 

"See?" Minho says with excitement, squinting outside at the winter wonderland that's appeared overnight. "You've never seen the garden in winter, but I still think it's really cool every year. The enchantment keeps things growing all year-round, so even if things get covered with snow all the flowers and plants are still alive under it." 

When he glances over at Jisung for his reaction, Jisung isn't actually looking out the window. Instead, Jisung is looking at him with sleepy, unfocused eyes and an unbearably fond smile. 

It catches Minho off-guard, any of the other excited words he would've spit out disappearing as he stares back at Jisung, his chest and stomach suddenly feeling like it's full of butterflies. 

"You really like this," Jisung says, voice still low and a little gravely from sleep. He's still just looking at Minho with the softest expression. 

Feeling his cheeks warm under such a gentle look from Jisung, Minho clears his throat, eyes nervously darting away. "Uh, I do. A little too much, maybe. Sorry." 

"Don't apologize," Jisung mumbles. Then he leans forward and presses his forehead to Minho's shoulder, a tired sigh leaving his lips as Minho stiffens. "It's cute." 

Minho's brain ceases to function. 

He stands there frozen, not quite sure whether he should be looking at Jisung or not, whether he should say something or do something back— not like he even could, when suddenly all his brain can do is echo Jisung's voice saying the word cute. 

After a moment, Jisung lifts his head, resting his chin on Minho's shoulder instead and gently holding onto the sleeve of Minho's shirt. "Sorry. I'm gonna go back to sleep for another hour or two, then I'll give you a better reaction. You can show me the flowers then." 

Then Jisung sleepily nuzzles his cheek against Minho's shoulder, and before Minho can even begin to process what's just happened or how he should respond, Jisung's waddling back down the hallway to the bedroom, leaving Minho standing in the middle of the cottage feeling like Han Jisung just hit him with something heavy. 

He doesn't do much of anything for the next couple of hours while Jisung sleeps, mostly just pretends to work on more Everburning Charms while his mind strays. 

When Jisung finally wanders out of the bedroom again later in the morning, he's true to his word. They both bundle up and head outside, Minho showing Jisung the strange and beautiful anomaly that is the garden in winter. 

\---

The days get colder after that, and the nights even more so. Over the course of the next few weeks, snowstorm after snowstorm hits the little cottage until Minho can barely open the doors without using a melting spell that he finds in one of the journals. 

The cottage itself remains fairly toasty in the middle of the frozen waste thanks to the numerous enchantments Minho has going, as well as the fireplace itself. 

So maybe that's why he's surprised when Jisung suddenly scoots closer to him in bed one night, the two of them going silent long before. Minho thought Jisung had fallen asleep already if he's being honest, so the sudden shift as Jisung moves so his back is touching Minho's back makes him jolt a little. 

“I’m cold,” Jisung whispers in the dark. 

Oh. It doesn't seem that much colder in the cottage than usual though? Maybe slightly because of how intense the cold and snow is outside, but it's still rather warm. 

Minho blinks, turning onto his side so that he's facing Jisung's back. “I have more blankets in the closet somewhere.” 

There’s silence from Jisung. Then, voice still soft: “No, that’s okay.” 

Confused, Minho frowns. “You just said you’re cold.” 

“Not… that cold.” Jisung clears his throat. "Sorry. I thought... it's fine." 

Minho's frown deepens. Maybe he isn't the best with people sometimes, but he can at least tell that Jisung is obviously fishing for something that he's not picking up on. 

If it's about being cold, and getting blankets isn't the solution, then maybe... no, right? That wouldn't be it. Except it's really the only thing Minho can think of. 

Oh, he so hopes he isn't about to completely fucking embarrass himself. 

Hesitantly, Minho reaches out towards Jisung, his hand hovering awkwardly for a moment before it gently lowers onto Jisung's hip. When he touches him, a shiver runs through Jisung's body. 

Voice soft, Minho asks, "Is this it?" 

There's a long pause, long enough that Minho fears that he's horribly misread this entire situation and made Jisung uncomfortable. 

And then Jisung shifts backwards until he's pressed against Minho's front, and it's like Minho's entire body is suddenly on fire. 

"Is that okay?" Jisung asks. His voice is quiet, but he's so close now that it doesn't matter. 

His brain feels like it's combusting. Still, he manages to say, "It's warmer this way." 

Because that's what Jisung wanted, right? 

"I'm glad you understand," Jisung says, and after another moment of hesitation Minho slides his arm further around Jisung's waist, hand hovering awkwardly without touching him anywhere. 

Arm curled around Jisung like this, his back pressed into the curve of Minho’s chest and his hand hovering over Jisung’s middle, Minho can’t help but recall the sudden impulse he had all those months ago as he looked at Jisung stretched out in the summer sun— the way he’d ached to touch the bare skin above the waist of Jisung’s trousers where it peaked out from beneath his shirt. 

Maybe it’s the way that he’s pressed against Jisung with no space between them, or that Jisung was the one who pushed back into his touch when he offered warmth, or the undeniably Jisung scent of his hair on Minho’s pillow, but whatever it is makes Minho feel light-headed. 

He splays his hand across Jisung’s stomach without thinking just like he thought about back then in the garden, his friend’s skin warm even under the cotton shirt he wears— _my shirt_ , Minho thinks dizzily. 

Jisung inhales sharply. 

“Minho.” Jisung’s voice is barely even a whisper. 

"Sorry," he says, thinking he must've misstepped because of the odd strain in Jisung's voice. 

When he moves to pull his hand away, Jisung suddenly covers it with one of his own, holding his hand in place on Jisung's stomach. 

"It's okay," Jisung says. "I like it." 

He's dreaming, Minho decides then. He must be dreaming because there's no way this would actually happen to him in real life when he's awake. He must have fallen asleep without realizing it and this is some stupid fantasy his brain has come up with to torture him. 

But Jisung feels so real in his arms. When Minho leans his head forward to rest his face against the top of Jisung's head, it feels so soft. The place where Minho's hand rests on Jisung's stomach is unbelievably warm even through the shirt he wears, and Jisung's hand covering Minho's is even warmer— so warm it almost burns, skin to skin. 

So maybe it's not a dream, but to Minho it may as well be one. 

It takes him hours to fall asleep for real, long after Jisung drifts off in his arms. 

\---

(He wakes to Jisung still in his arms the next morning and all he can do is lay there in disbelief, trying his best to wrap his head around it. 

And it becomes a habit, then, for Jisung to settle into his arms when they go to bed together. For Minho to go to bed early and wake up to Jisung pressed against him anyways. 

For warmth, of course, but when Minho offers to hang another warming charm in the bedroom Jisung insists it's fine. 

So Minho decides that maybe it's better to just accept what's being offered to him, even if he's still confused about why it's being offered in the first place. 

Not that he's complaining.) 

\---

"Do you remember," Jisung starts slowly one afternoon, the two of them sitting at the table drinking freshly brewed tea, "when you asked me what I would do if I could do anything?" 

Minho blinks in surprise, his cup of tea freezing halfway towards his mouth. "Vaguely? That's when you told me you wanted to write stories, right?" 

Jisung nods, thoughtfully tapping on the rim of his teacup. "I just realized that when you asked me that all those months ago, you never told me your answer to that question." 

Minho furrows his brow. "What?" 

"You didn't tell me your answer," Jisung repeats, looking at Minho with curious eyes. "I told you mine, it's only fair I get to hear your secret dream or whatever." 

Something cold settles in the pit of Minho's stomach, something that makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

"I don't really have an answer," Minho tells him, dropping his gaze down to the teacup in his hand. 

Jisung makes a tiny noise. "What? You have to have one! Everyone has at least one silly dream, right?" 

"I... don't," Minho says slowly, and when he looks up again Jisung is frowning deeply at him. 

"You don't have a dream?" Jisung asks, and the sort of whimsical note to his voice that he had earlier is completely gone, replaced by a more serious, concerned tone. 

"I mean, I don't exactly have any use for them," Minho explains, because that makes sense in his head. 

Evidently, that doesn't seem to make things better for Jisung judging by the way his eyes narrow ever so slightly. "Why not?" 

"Well, it's simple, isn't it?" He gestures around at the cottage. "This is my life. The cottage. The magic. The things I make for the villagers. It's my whole life and it's all it's ever going to be, so... I don't have any use for silly dreams." 

That seems to be the wrong thing to say, the look in Jisung's eyes growing more serious. "Minho, can I ask you something?" 

Unnerved by the look he's giving him, it takes Minho a moment to respond. "Yes?" 

"Are you happy here?" Jisung asks bluntly, and Minho feels like the air's been knocked out of his lungs. 

And it's not like he hasn't thought about this himself over the years. 

When Shiwon was still with him, the answer would've been so easy. Yes, of course he was happy here in the cottage with Shiwon, learning magic from her. He felt like he belonged for the first time in his life. He felt loved. 

And to a certain extent, that's still true. He's never been happier anywhere else in his life. 

He also hasn't actually been anywhere else either, save for the orphanage growing up. 

He'd be lying if he said he still felt as content here as he did when Shiwon was still by his side, but— 

"I don't think it matters whether I'm happy here or not," Minho answers honestly. 

"Minho," Jisung says softly, and there's a note of genuine distress in his voice. "Of course it does." 

Minho just shakes his head. "You don't get it." 

"I don't," Jisung agrees. "Explain it to me, please." 

"Shiwon," Minho starts, and her name is heavy in his mouth. It's strange, he realizes, for her name to be this heavy again. Ever since he brought Jisung to the willow tree, it's been easier to talk about her. Now, it feels like nothing's changed. Like he's made no progress. "Shiwon took me in because she needed someone to take care of the cottage after she was gone. To take care of the village, like she'd done for years and years. She may have had other reasons for taking me in, and I truly... I truly think she did, but I can say I'm positive being a successor was the most important reason." 

Something flickers in Jisung's eyes as he looks at Minho, and he thinks that Jisung's started to understand what he's getting at. Maybe not agree with, but at least understand. 

Minho continues: "At the end of the day, I don't really think whether I'm happy or not matters. I need to continue where she left off, just like she wanted. That is the very least I can do to make up for everything she's done for me." 

Jisung is quiet for a long time after that. It drags on long enough that Minho's head starts to hurt. 

Finally, Jisung says, "Well, I don't think that's any way to live." 

And maybe he's right, Minho admits, but it's the only way he has that doesn't leave him wracked with guilt. 

"It's not like I'm miserable here," Minho says instead, shrugging in what he hopes looks easy. Like it doesn't bother him. "I help people. I have a roof over my head. I have a garden that provides anything I need. I'm free to practice magic, rumors and hypocrisy from the villagers aside. What else could I really dream of?" 

"The rest of the world?" Jisung still looks serious, but it's different now. More... resigned. Sad. Like he realizes now that Minho really means what he's saying and he won't have his mind changed. "To be truly happy, not just... content?" 

"I'm sorry," Minho says, meeting Jisung's eyes. "I don't think I can tell you anything that'll make it sound better to you. It's just... not a problem to me. I've known this would be my life for years now. It's alright. There are worse lives to lead than the one I have now." 

And Jisung really looks like he wants to argue more, but he just sighs. Then he stands, draining his teacup in one go. 

When he speaks, he sounds tired. "I just wish you would realize you can want more than this without it making you a bad son." 

Minho flinches at that but doesn't say anything else. A strange look passes over Jisung's face then, tinged with what Minho thinks might be regret, before he wordlessly takes his cup over to wash it. 

The problem with living alone with someone in a tiny cottage in the middle of winter when you're snowed in so badly that you can't even go outside, Minho discovers, is that when you argue and things get awkward, there's nowhere to hide from each other. 

It feels weird being in the same room together after that when there's a heavy cloud hanging over them, so Minho finishes cleaning up and retreats to his bedroom, closing the door behind him and collapsing onto the bed face-down. 

Muffled by the blankets, he lets out a long groan. 

He really doesn't like this— the arguing, that is. The disagreeing. Him and Jisung get along when it comes to nearly everything, so why is it that when it comes to something like this, it's a problem? The one thing Minho doesn't think he can change. 

After laying there moping for a bit, he resigns himself to reading in bed. He keeps a number of fiction books stacked on his bedside table, so at least there's something to keep him busy. 

He's read them all before, sure, but the one he picks out— a story about a cat who wants to become a person— is comforting in the way that only a familiar story can be. He knows every bit of it cover to cover, there's no worrying about what might happen. It's just easy. 

The sun has just begun to set when the bedroom door creaks open, and when he looks up Jisung is cautiously sticking his head inside. 

Jisung looks almost... anxious? Lips parted slightly, eyes wide as they meet Minho's. The mix of emotions Minho feels— nerves of his own, fear of things getting worse, discomfort— shift as he sees the look on his face. That's not the expression of someone who wants to argue more, at least. 

"Minho?" Jisung's voice is soft. Unsure. 

"Jisung?" Minho slowly puts his book down, frowning at him. "Is everything okay?" 

Jisung shuffles his feet awkwardly, still standing in the doorway like he's afraid to come closer— or like he thinks he's not allowed inside. "Um. I'm okay. Can we talk about earlier?" 

Something tightens in Minho's chest like a bowstring. Clearing his throat, he sets his book back on the bedside table. "You don't have to stand over there, you know. You can come in to talk about it." 

Jisung hesitates like he's not sure whether or not Minho's offer is genuine. Minho feels bad that they're both like this now, jumpy and unsure. Still, he doesn't want things to stay this way. 

To reaffirm his offer, Minho gently pats the bed beside him. After a moment, Jisung shuffles forward and climbs onto the bed, settling on his knees with his hands resting on them. He still looks stiff and... ashamed? 

"Relax," Minho tells Jisung— and it's a reminder to himself as well. "You can talk to me." 

He watches Jisung force his shoulders to relax before he shifts slightly, falling into a much less stiff sitting position with his legs curled next to him. 

"I'm sorry for earlier," Jisung says finally, and he seems so timid now. "I didn't mean to push it that hard." 

Minho just gives a little shrug. "It's fine." 

"It wasn't though," Jisung insists. "I saw the look on your face when I kept pushing you and the comment I made— I know that's something you're sensitive about and I said it anyways. I'm sorry." 

It's true that the son comment had made Minho uncomfortable, but having Jisung apologize directly for it— it makes Minho's skin crawl even worse than what he said earlier. Maybe he's just not built for receiving apologies, not when they make him feel so weird. 

And it's not like Jisung's line of thinking had been too far off. It's true that the main reason he doesn't think about alternatives or dreams is that he's worried it would make him a bad— a bad whatever he was to Shiwon. 

Sighing, Minho shakes his head. "I really mean it. It's okay. I know why you didn't like what I said, and you're... probably right." 

"It doesn't matter if you think I was probably right," Jisung says. "I still hurt you and I feel awful." 

"Don't," Minho says quickly. "I'm okay. I just don't want us to tiptoe around each other any more than we already did today." 

Still looking unsure, Jisung drops his eyes down to his hands where they pick at a stray thread on the blanket. 

He doesn't like seeing Jisung this way. He doesn't like feeling this way either, like they're walking on eggshells with each other. He's not sure what he can say to make Jisung believe that he really isn't upset with him— it's not his fault that he managed to hit on one of Minho's sore spots. It's not exactly like Minho's great with words. 

He goes back and forth in his own head before he finally just goes _fuck it_ and holds out an arm to Jisung. 

Jisung stares at him in confusion, looking at his extended arm like it's something foreign to him. 

"Well?" Minho flexes his arm slightly, making the space he's offering more obvious. "Come here then." 

A flurry of emotions flickers across Jisung's face all at once before it settles into a look of relief. It's enough to make the cold tension in Minho's chest dissolve. 

Accepting his offer, Jisung crawls forward until he's tucked against his side, Minho's arm wrapped around him. 

It's... unfamiliar, even given the way they hold each other at night. There's an excuse for that— although Minho admits it may be a bit flimsy. This is something else. 

He doesn't think it's bad. Just new. 

"I'm sorry," Jisung mumbles, cheek resting against Minho's shoulder. 

"I know," Minho reassures him, gently stroking his hand down Jisung's arm. "I wasn't mad, I just— this is the one thing I don't think I can change, Jisung. However I feel, I can't just abandon the duty Shiwon left me." 

"I get that, I really do," Jisung says. "I just... I want you to be happy." 

Something flutters in Minho's stomach. 

"I am happy here," Minho says. "Maybe it's not... perfect, or something I'd dream of, but it's not so bad. There are things I like about this life— especially recently." 

"Like what?" Jisung asks, and Minho's hand stills on his arm. 

"I like that you're here now," Minho admits, and that bit of honesty— vulnerability— feels like pulling teeth. 

Jisung is quiet. With the way he's laying, it's hard for Minho to see his face. Then he sighs, shifting in Minho's arms so he can tuck his face into the crook of Minho's neck, his breath warm against his skin. It makes Minho shudder. 

"Will you stay with me?" Jisung asks suddenly, voice muffled against Minho's neck. 

Minho's heart stops. "What do you mean? 

Jisung's silent. Then he says, "I don't know. Can we just... stay like this for a while?" 

So they do. 

\---

They're okay after that, or at least Minho thinks so. 

Weeks pass and Minho finds himself pressed against Jisung more and more. Not just when they're huddling for warmth at night, but throughout the day as well. There's no excuse for it and neither of them tries to make one. 

It's just... nice. It's nice to be able to wrap his arms around Jisung because he wants to, for Jisung to slip into his arms when he's not expecting it. 

The longer he spends with Jisung, the more he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, whatever confusing mix of emotions he feels for Jisung, it's possible that Jisung— 

But that's stupid, right? It's stupid, Minho decides every time his mind wanders there. 

But regardless of whether Jisung returns any of his feelings, Minho has to admit that there's absolutely no way he can talk himself out of the fact that the feelings he has are romantic— and they're strong. 

He doesn't have a good understanding of love. How would he, when he's been isolated his whole life? His understanding of it comes from the books he's read, and he's not quite sure if any of the grand love stories in his books match the way he feels about Jisung. 

The things he feels for Jisung, they're... quiet. Warm. Not the loud, extravagant true love he's read about. Jisung feels like something comfortable, something sure. 

Jisung feels like someone he's always known, someone he wants to continue knowing for the rest of his life. 

Jisung feels like home. 

Is that love? He doesn't know. 

The only things Minho's really sure of anymore is that his feelings for Jisung are strong, and every day and week that passes, he starts to dread spring more knowing that his time with Jisung is running out. 

\---

The changing of the seasons is inevitable, however, and Minho knows winter is almost done when the first heat wave hits, melting most of the snow and making the magical heat inside the cottage so unbearable that he has to dispel all but one of the heating charms. 

"Spring's almost here," Jisung says as he watches Minho dispose of them, a strange look on his face as he sits at the table. 

"I guess that means you won't be stranded here with me anymore in a week or two, huh?" Minho says, although the words sting to say. 

"I guess so." Jisung looks down. "I like being with you, though." 

Minho's chest tightens. "You don't have to lie, I know it's boring being snowed in here all winter." 

Jisung just makes a noncommittal noise. 

"Do you still not want to leave?" Jisung asks suddenly, and there's an underlying nervousness to the way he speaks. 

Minho freezes. Why is Jisung bringing this up again...? 

"You know the answer to that," Minho reminds him softly. 

It's not about what he does or doesn't want, it's about what he needs to do. 

"What if it was me?" 

Minho's heart drops into his stomach. 

"Excuse me?" Minho's voice is strained, his eyes meeting Jisung's. 

And Jisung looks— he doesn't know. Jisung looks like he's running through about six different emotions at once. 

"I said what if it was me? What if— what if I've been thinking about leaving, Minho?" Jisung's words come out in a flurry. "I want to travel, see the world. I want tell stories that are genuine and I don't think I can tell the stories I want if I spend the rest of my life in a village with people who hate me." 

"You're leaving?" Minho repeats dumbly, because that's all he can manage. 

"Yes? No? I don't know yet." Frustrated, Jisung reaches up to touch his forehead, shoving the hair out of his eyes. "I just... I've been thinking about it for a long time now. I think I told you this forever ago, but I almost left last spring before I decided to stick around for awhile longer." 

Minho vaguely recalls Jisung mentioning that. "You said you wanted to stay because something caught your eye, right? What was it?" 

If he can just— if he can figure out what that thing was, maybe he can get Jisung to stay. He knows that's selfish, but the thought of Jisung leaving— 

Jisung just stares at him for a long moment. Then he asks, "Don't you know already?" 

Something tightens in his chest. "How would I know?" 

"Minho," Jisung says, and there's a pleading note to the way he says his name that makes Minho's heart ache. "You have to know I stayed because of you, right?" 

Minho jolts, staring at Jisung like he just told him something absurd, impossible— and to Minho he did. 

He takes a step closer to where Jisung sits at the table. "Why would you stay because of me?" 

"Because— I don't know." Jisung shakes his head rapidly. "Because you were nice to me, at least at first. I know that's a stupid reason to stay, but with how the rest of the people here treat me, it meant I was interested in you. And then we got to know each other and I wanted to stay longer because you were my friend, and I've never had a friend before." 

Jisung clears his throat, glancing away from Minho like it's hard to look directly at him. 

When Jisung speaks again, his voice is shakier than Minho's ever heard it. "It's because I care about you." 

Minho genuinely doesn't understand what's happening. Reaching up to touch his forehead, he asks, "Why are you telling me this now? About wanting to leave, I mean?" 

"Because I've always been thinking about leaving ever since I was a kid. There's never really been any reason for me to stick around, you know?" Jisung shakes his head. After a moment, he stands up from the chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he starts to pace across the length of the cottage while Minho watches. "And then I met you, and I just— Minho, I asked you if you were still sure you didn't want to leave for a reason." 

Minho stares at him in confusion. "What do you mean?" 

"What about leaving with me?" Jisung asks, and Minho's throat closes up. "Neither of us are really happy here, right? We both know that. But being together the past few months, I think this is the happiest I've been in years. I just— I just think we could both be happy, maybe, if we tried to find that happiness together." 

And he wants that. He wants what Jisung is saying so badly that it hurts— he hasn't wanted anything so badly in years, and that is so jarring. But he can't. He can't, not without being eaten alive by guilt. 

"Jisung," he says, voice thick. "You're asking me to leave with you because I'm your friend?" 

Jisung just stares at him in disbelief, like Minho isn't getting something that he thinks is obvious. "I don't want to leave with you because you're my friend. Minho, I want to leave this place with you because I think I'm in love with you." 

It feels like Jisung just hit him. 

All Minho can do is stand there in shock as Jisung approaches him, and his face is so soft, his eyes so scared and open and beautiful— 

And then Jisung's reaching out to take his hands in his, and this is all Minho's ever dreamed about, but the little voice in the back of his head is just whispering _you can't, you can't leave, this is what you've wanted since you met him and now you're going to hurt him because you can't leave._

The look on Jisung's face is so hopeful it breaks Minho's heart. 

"I'm not misreading this, right?" Jisung asks, and his voice has fallen down to barely a whisper. "You feel the same way about me?" 

It takes Minho a long moment of struggling before he's finally able to speak, the words coming out strained. "You're not misreading things." 

Jisung's eyes immediately light up. He still looks vulnerable and anxious, but relief visibly passes over him at Minho's words. He lets out a shuddering breath. "Good, good. I thought— I thought maybe I was crazy, you know? That I was projecting my feelings onto you." 

"You weren't," Minho confirms, voice hoarse. He clears his throat, once, twice, three times before he drops his eyes down from Jisung's face so he's looking at where Jisung holds his hands in his. It seems right, looking at their hands like this, but there's a nagging feeling of guilt in his stomach. He swallows. "Jisung, I feel the same way as you, but that still doesn't mean I can just leave." 

The excitement on Jisung's face wavers before a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, one that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "Oh. Um... okay." 

"I'm sorry," Minho tells him softly, his hands tightening around Jisung's. "I want— you know it doesn't matter what I want, not when I have a job to do here." 

Jisung is quiet. Then he shakes his head, taking a deep breath before he speaks again, this time in a brighter tone that Minho can tell he's forcing: "Well, we don't have to go anywhere then, right? I can stay here with you. We can just keep doing what we've been doing for the past few months." 

And that does sound okay to Minho. It sounds much better than okay, actually. But Jisung was sincere when he spoke about wanting to leave earlier, and Minho just... can't help the way guilt has started to gnaw at him for two different reasons. 

"Jisung," he says, "you want to see the world. I don't want you to miss out on that or be unhappy because of me." 

"I wouldn't be unhappy if I was here with you," Jisung insists, and he sounds so firm in the way he says it that Minho can't help but believe him. "I'm not happy here because of how the people down in the village treat me, but if I live with you, I barely have to see them, right? So it would already be better." 

"You're not like me," Minho murmurs, because despite believing Jisung when he talks about being happy with him, he can't shake how sad it makes him. "You're not bound by duty. You're free to have dreams and pursue them wherever they take you. Jisung, I just— I don't want to be the reason you compromise on those dreams. Just because I have to stay here doesn't mean you have to." 

"Life is about making compromises," Jisung argues, squeezing down on Minho's hands and taking another step closer to him until there's almost no room between them. "It's true I want to travel, but at this point I don't think I'd be happy if I had to do it alone. I don't want to be alone, Minho. That's why I'm okay with staying here, I think. Because I want to be with you." Then he hesitates. "Can you— can you at least be honest with me?" 

It takes a moment but Minho nods, already having a feeling what Jisung is about to ask him. 

Slowly, Jisung asks, "If you didn't feel like you had to be here— if you didn't feel like you still had a debt to pay back, would you want to travel with me?" 

Minho swallows. Thinking about it is already hard enough, but saying it is much harder. It feels like pulling teeth to finally answer him, even if it's just one little word. "Yes." 

A mix of emotions pass over Jisung's face. Then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before exhaling slowly. When he opens his eyes again, they seem clearer. His shoulders relax— everything about him relaxes except for his hands, still holding tightly onto Minho's like he's afraid Minho will slip away at any second. 

"Thank you," Jisung says, his voice much more even. "And I'm not lying when I tell you I'd rather be with you here than not at all, you know that, right?" 

And Minho does believe him. He's not sure exactly what that makes him feel, his emotions too mixed up when he's never really been that good with them to begin with. Guilt? Joy? Relief? 

"I know," Minho agrees, and Jisung lets out a huff of soft laughter. 

"Well, good," he says. "I don't want you thinking I'm lying to spare your feelings or anything." 

"Does that mean you really want to stay with me?" Minho asks hesitantly, searching Jisung's face for something that's going to prove this is a dream he's going to wake up from soon. 

"Of course it does," Jisung says firmly, and then a smile spreads across his face— a real one. Easy. Genuine. "Like I said, I think making compromises is just part of life. I think you're something worth making compromises for." 

And Minho's face feels hot, and so do his eyes, and he's not someone who cries but there's a momentary fear that flashes across his mind that maybe he's going to do just that in front of Jisung. Thankfully he blinks until it stops, although no amount of blinking can stop his face from burning up. 

"I don't know how I fooled you into thinking that," Minho says slowly, "but I guess I'm grateful you fell for it." 

And Jisung laughs at that. A real bark of laughter that fills the quiet cottage. Despite the turmoil of emotions in his head, Minho can't help the little smile that spreads across his face. 

It feels... better now. Lighter. More comfortable. More like them again; Minho and Jisung. 

Jisung is just smiling at him now, his eyes sparkling as he looks up at Minho. They're a breath apart, their hands still clasped between them. 

"Minho," Jisung says after a moment. "Can I kiss you?" 

Warmth floods his body, his fingers tightening around Jisung's at his words. 

He's thought about kissing Jisung countless times over the past few months. Hundreds of different scenarios, hundreds of different ways to kiss him. He's never been proud of the way his thoughts strayed there, but now he's standing here realizing that even his hundreds of embarrassing fantasies about this very moment did absolutely nothing to prepare him for it happening in real life. 

God, he's never even kissed anyone. For all his thoughts, both innocent and dirty and somewhere in between, he doesn't actually have any idea what the fuck he's doing, everything pulled from his cheesy romance novels. 

Maybe it's best if Jisung's the one who takes the lead at it, actually. 

"Do you know what you're doing?" Minho asks, the question slipping out before he can stop it. 

An amused expression slides onto Jisung's face. "Absolutely not." 

Well, maybe neither one of them is actually fit to lead in this situation. Still, it's strangely reassuring to know Jisung is just as clueless as he is. 

"We'll figure it out," Minho says finally, and at those words Jisung's entire face lights up. 

And he gets it, he really does. Because when he says it, he knows it carries the promise of time spent together, learning together even if they're both clumsy and inexperienced. But it doesn't matter, because they're together. 

Jisung tilts forward onto his tiptoes then, still holding Minho's hands tightly. As his face gets closer, the heat filling Minho's cheeks grow more intense and he slams his eyelids shut, waiting anxiously for what he knows is coming. 

And it's gentle. Barely a brush of lips against lips. Jisung is hesitant, unsure. Minho is still frozen in place, partially convinced that if he moves he'll wake up from whatever dream this is. 

It barely feels like anything, so much so that Minho briefly wonder if this even counts as a kiss, when Jisung suddenly lets go of his hands and pulls away. 

_Great,_ Minho thinks miserably, _am I that bad at this?_

Then Jisung's hands settle on Minho's shoulders and his mouth is on his again, much more firmly this time. Minho jolts at the touch but Jisung's hands hold him in place, ground him. 

After a moment of hesitation, unsure of what he's supposed to be doing in this— this situation, he slowly raises his hands and fumbles for Jisung's face, cupping his cheeks and kissing him back. 

It doesn't last very long, but to Minho it feels like it lasts an eternity. When they finally part, a shuddering breath leaves Minho's lips before he opens his eyes again. 

They both just stare at each other, wide-eyed and flushed. 

"Was that good?" Jisung asks finally, and his face looks so round with Minho's hands on his cheeks. 

"I don't know," Minho admits, and for some reason that makes Jisung start giggling. 

He feels Jisung's cheeks tense under his hands as he starts laughing, and it's such a lovely image— Minho gently holding Jisung's face as he giggles— that Minho can't help but laugh too, whatever tension that's been hanging over them for the past ten minutes breaking like a dam. 

"Well," Jisung says between his laughter, his eyes bright and sparkling as he looks at Minho, "I guess that just means we'll have to keep trying until we know for sure, right?" 

Minho's stomach flutters at the implication. "I guess so." 

And it's strange after that. Not bad, not awkward; just strange. The rest of the day is... weirdly normal by their standards. 

Jisung reads one of Minho's romance novels over in the rocking chair, Doongie curled up in his lap. Minho sits over at the table reading about elemental magic and how to utilize them for defensive purposes. Minho makes them dinner and Jisung helps him clean up. They sit together and just talk for a while— about anything and everything. 

It feels like nothing's changed— almost, save for occasionally when Minho will catch Jisung's eye during a lapse of silence and his mind conjures the memory of Jisung's lips on his, and Jisung just grins at him like he knows what he's thinking. 

It feels... well, it just feels right. 

He has his fears, of course. How couldn't he? What if this is a big mistake and Jisung realizes that when they wake up tomorrow? What if he changes his mind about being okay with staying here? What if Minho's keeping him from finding his happiness— all because of Minho's guilt and obligations? What if it turns out he isn't worth the compromise Jisung thinks he is? 

Whatever his fears are, they're settled— if only momentarily— when Jisung dips down to kiss him again as he walks by the table. 

It's gentle. Not as feather-light as their first, but quick and chaste. A peck. 

"I can just do that now," Jisung says with a silly grin on his face, and Minho can't tell if he's talking to him or just speaking out loud to himself. 

Either way, Minho can't help but mirror the grin Jisung wears. Before he can second guess himself, he reaches up to grab Jisung and pull him down into another kiss, this time longer. 

Yeah. Whatever anxiety he has, he'll deal with it. This is worth it, definitely. 

There's a brief moment as they get ready for bed that Minho wonders if this will change anything about their sleeping arrangements, if it'll make them feel awkward or more self-conscious, but Jisung just slides right over and presses himself into his usual spot in Minho's arms. 

It's funny, Minho can't help but think as he shifts slightly, tightening his arm around Jisung's waist as he wiggles closer to Minho. Something big shifted between them, but it feels like nothing has actually changed. 

He's glad. If things changed too much between them, this would be a lot scarier to him. As it is, it feels new but familiar. Like seeing something you've always known but in a new light. 

\---

Minho wakes in the middle of the night to the feeling of the bed dipping next to him. He stirs, annoyed at the disturbance and the way Jisung's heat disappears from his arms. 

He doesn't think too much about it at first as Jisung slips from the bedroom, assuming Jisung's getting up to relieve himself and will be back. 

He's on the verge of slipping back asleep when he hears one of the doors in the cottage open— not the bedroom door, his sleep-addled brain manages to discern when there are no footsteps inside the room. 

That realization is like a jolt to his system. He sits up suddenly, mind scrambling through different scenarios. There's no reason for Jisung to leave the cottage now, right? It's the middle of the night and it's still winter— even if just barely. 

Maybe Minho's fears from earlier were coming to life earlier than he expected. Maybe Jisung woke up in the middle of the night and realized what he said, what he did, and came to the conclusion that this was all a mistake and it's best to leave while Minho's asleep. 

_But would he really do that?_ Minho can't help but think as he stumbles out of bed, confused and anxious as he wanders out into the hallway, nearly tripping over Doongie where he lays on the floor in the process. 

When he looks out the window at the front of the cottage, he pauses momentarily as he realizes that he doesn't see anyone on the path leading down to the village at all. He wasn't that far behind the door closing, so if Jisung went out this way he'd still be able to see him, right? 

Frowning to himself, he moves to the other side of the cottage and peaks out the window that overlooks the garden. 

Sure enough, Jisung is standing at the treeline of one of the paths deeper into the garden. He's bundled up, looking into the trees like he's trying to think. After a moment, he starts walking down the path, disappearing from Minho's line of sight. 

Minho stares after him, brain whirling as he stands there completely stumped. What business would Jisung have in the garden, much less at this time of night? It doesn't seem like he's trying to leave— after all, the front door is right there— so what on earth is he doing? 

Unable to escape the curiosity gnawing at him, Minho fumbles for his long coat and clumsily shoves his feet into his boots before making his way out the door. 

The air is still cold, despite spring being just around the corner. The snow has mostly melted because of the last heatwave, only patches of it remaining. His breath hangs in the air as he walks towards the treeline, hands shoved into his pockets. 

After a moment of consideration, he takes a pause and murmurs an incantation to himself, gesturing in the air as he draws a rune that bursts into soft moonlight for disappearing. It's a simple spell Shiwon taught him for gathering in the garden around easily spooked animals, something that lets him move in silence and leave no tracks. Pass Without Trace, it's called. He didn't really think he'd ever be using it for something like this, but, well. That's how things work out. 

Lucky for him, Jisung has no such magic. If he did, it would be a lot harder to find him after he got a headstart. As it is, Minho manages to find the path he's on quickly because of the sound of Jisung's footsteps. He hangs back, careful to stay out of his sight if he were to turn back and look over his shoulder. 

Minho does feel a little bad for following Jisung, but he can't help the overwhelming curiosity he feels about just what Jisung is sneaking out in the middle of the night to do, especially when as far as he knows, he's never noticed Jisung leaving before. He usually wakes when Jisung gets up in the middle of the night and falls back asleep soon after, but he's never heard the door to the garden open before tonight. 

He has a hunch, though, and the further into the garden he follows Jisung, the more sure of that hunch he becomes— although he couldn't even begin to figure out what it means. 

And he's right, because soon he finds himself silently stepping into the shadows of the trees as Jisung walks slowly into the familiar clearing. 

The willow tree is as strange and beautiful and sorrowful as ever. The pond still has patches of ice on its surface but the willow tree dips into the water in a place where it's perfectly thawed. 

Minho frowns as he watches Jisung step towards the pond, hand reaching up to rest on the cold bark of the tree he's leaning against. He doesn't know what reason Jisung could possibly have for coming to Shiwon's clearing, but the way he walks with his eyes trained on the willow makes it clear that ending up here was definitely his intention. 

He watches Jisung give an awkward bow, his hands clasped tightly together in front of him as he stands on the edge of the pond. 

"Um, hello," Jisung says, and his voice is not loud but in the dead silence of the garden it rings out like a bell. 

Minho jumps when he hears it, bracing himself against the tree. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't for him to speak. 

Jisung clears his throat. With his back to Minho, it's impossible for him to make out any details, but he can tell Jisung's nervous by the way he shifts from one foot to the other. 

"I don't know if you remember me from a couple months ago when I was here with Minho," Jisung continues, and it hits Minho that Jisung isn't just speaking out loud to himself, he's trying to talk to Shiwon. 

Silence. 

“I’m talking to a tree,” Jisung says after a long moment, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t even know if you’re… there anymore. I don’t understand magic, much less magic that turns people into trees.” 

Despite how confused he is watching the scene in front of him, Minho can't help the way his lips quirk up into a rueful little smile. Whatever he's after, Jisung at least understands the bizarre silence that comes with trying to talk to the willow. 

Jisung coughs awkwardly, reaching up to adjust his scarf. "I guess I'm here because I'm just hoping that maybe some part of you is still there, and maybe you can... give me a sign. Give Minho a sign that it's okay for him to move on." 

The bitter little smile is immediately wiped off his face, jolting where he stands. He's suddenly very grateful that he both chose to lean against a tree for support and camouflage and that he decided to cast Pass Without Trace on himself because the strangled noise of surprise and his suddenly wobbly legs most likely would've given him away without both of those things. 

"I don't even know if anything will come of this. And I just— I meant it when I told him I wanted to stay with him no matter what, even if that meant staying here. As much as I want to see the world, I want to continue to be with him even more." Heat floods Minho's body at Jisung's words. So he was genuine. He thought so, he really did trust him but— but it's different to hear it confirmed when Jisung doesn't know he's there. It's a different kind of reassuring. "So I don't mind staying here, but I just keep thinking about how the reason he doesn't want to leave is because he feels obligated to spend the rest of his life here." 

And it's sad hearing it said like that. Sure, he told Jisung as much, but he truly didn't realize how... depressing it sounds. 

“He isn’t happy here, you know. Truly happy, I mean. Not when he's treated the way he is, not when he feels like he can't ever leave because he has to be here serving people that think he's some kind of monster." Jisung raises his voice slightly, ringing out clearly on purpose now as if it will reach any bit of Shiwon remaining in the willow tree. "I think you loved him a lot, the way he talks it’s like you were more of a mother than a mentor. I know you wanted him to take care of the village, the cottage, the garden… all of it— and he can, he’s capable enough! But he isn’t happy anymore, and despite what he thinks, his happiness matters." 

Minho takes a shuddering breath at that, and once again he's grateful that the sound is muffled by the spell he cast earlier. 

"I know Minho isn't sure how you felt about him and it might be presumptuous for me to assume this, but from everything he's told me about you and the relationship you two have, it seems like maybe you saw him as your child too." Still wringing his hands, he says, much softer: "If I'm right and you're still in there, I just... want to ask you to let him go if he wants to go. If he was truly a son to you, then you would want him to be happy. If you could possibly leave a sign... I don't know, is that possible?" 

Jisung coughs again, clearly out of embarrassment and he ducks his head again. 

Hastily, he adds, "And if you can hear me and that's not something that's possible then I'm sorry!" 

There's a lot of emotions swirling around in Minho's mind as he watches Jisung straighten up again, awkwardly letting his apology hang in the air of the clearing as the willow sways just as it always does. It's hard to pick apart any of the feelings, all of them tangled together like yarn. 

There's only one thing he knows for sure, even with the disorienting storm of thoughts and feelings happening in his head. 

He loves Jisung, he decides, a strange sensation in his stomach as he watches him try to talk to Shiwon. He doesn't know what could come of what Jisung's doing, but the fact that he's even trying to do something makes him feel such an overwhelming wave of gratitude and affection. 

It's true that he doesn't know a damn thing about love outside of his cheesy romance novels, but this... yes. He's certain that what he's feeling for Jisung is love. 

Whatever may or may not come from Jisung trying to talk to Shiwon's willow— he doesn't exactly have high hopes after the years of silence— he at least feels relief that everything Jisung told him earlier was genuine and that he cares enough about him to try to reason with a spirit despite having no magical abilities. 

He doesn't know why, but it doesn't feel right to reveal himself to Jisung now. Maybe— maybe tomorrow. But he feels strange revealing he followed Jisung and eavesdropped on him. 

Jisung's conversation seemingly ended, Minho scurries back to the cottage, taking advantage of his knowledge of the garden to take shortcuts Jisung doesn't know about. 

He strips quickly as he enters the cottage, hastily dispelling Pass Without Trace and murmuring body warming incantations on himself to get rid of the clammy chill that clings to him after wandering out into the still cold garden. 

He's already back in bed when Jisung slides back into the room. His eyes are closed, but he feels the bed dip as Jisung climbs into bed and crawls back into Minho's arms, picking up his arm and wrapping it around his middle, seemingly oblivious. 

\---

The next morning, Minho wakes up early. Far before Jisung, although that's not exactly out of the ordinary. Still, it's early even for him— barely five hours have passed since he slunk back into bed. 

Careful not to disturb Jisung, he slips out of bed, his curiosity killing him. 

He doesn't expect anything. Why would he? And yet— 

He doesn't know. He just wants to see, even if it's hopeless. 

So he shrugs on his coat and tugs on a scarf, moving quietly so as not to wake Jisung. As he's stepping into his boots, Soonie winds around his leg and looks up at him with her big, knowing eyes. 

"Do you want to come with me?" Minho asks, voice barely a whisper. 

Soonie stands up on her back legs, pawing at his trouser leg in what Minho can only assume is affirmation that she wants to go— or at the very least that she would like attention and being taken outside with him is just a way to get it. Either way, Minho reaches down to pick her up, cradling her in his arms as he steps outside into the crisp early morning. 

The walk to the clearing isn't nearly as silent as the one from a few hours ago. There's bird song in every direction, and despite himself it makes Minho smile. Spring is here and whatever happens with the willow, there's no reason for him to be anxious of spring's arrival anymore. Not when Jisung wants to stay with him. 

When he enters the clearing, Soonie gets oddly still in his arms, her tail flicking back and forth. 

It's just the energy of this place, Minho thinks. It isn't as overwhelming as it was before, at least to him, but he's not sure how much of that is an actual change or if Shiwon doesn't carry the same heavy tension all things related to her used to for him now that he's able to talk more openly about her to Jisung. The clearing still has a strange, almost otherworldly quality to it, but it isn't nearly as intense is used to be. 

He approaches the pond slowly, eyeing the ever-drooping willow tree for any signs of change when he spots them. 

Nestled between the roots of the willow, a small patch of flowers is growing. 

That's unusual for a few reasons. 

First, there weren't flowers growing there a few hours ago. Not even a hint of a bud as far as Minho had seen. He's come back to this clearing on and off for years since Shiwon passed and never once has he ever seen flowers grow at the base of the willow. In fact, outside of the grass, the only thing that's ever properly grown in the little clearing was Shiwon's willow. 

Second, the garden doesn't just grow new things wherever it wants. Sure, the garden's enchantment means it rapidly grows back things that have been picked, sometimes with some variety when it comes to colors, but it always grows where it's supposed to. Everything has its own place. The garden doesn't just start growing new things somewhere it's never grown anything before. 

If Minho planted new seeds somewhere in the garden on purpose? Sure, the garden would probably integrate those seeds and grow them the same as anything else here— after all, that's most likely what Shiwon did when she built this place originally. But Minho most certainly didn't plant these, and Jisung had been on his way out when Minho scurried back to the cottage. There was no time for him to do anything else, not when he came in just a couple minutes after Minho. 

So... there's something weird happening here. Weirder than the usual enchanted garden things, anyways. 

Still cradling Soonie in his arms, Minho slowly walks around the pond until he's standing at the base of the willow. He hasn't been this close to the tree since he visited it the first time Shiwon chose to become part of the garden, mostly because of how uncomfortable he's been with everything about her, and it's... strange being this close again. Standing in the shade of the tree in the early morning winter, Minho should probably be colder here. Instead, it almost feels warmer. Not a lot— in fact, it's just slight enough that he can't help but wonder if it's a trick of the mind. 

He couldn't tell from across the pond, but now that he's next to them he can make out what they are: a few sprigs of freshly bloomed sweetpeas. Their petals are delicate, a dusty baby blue. 

Minho has most certainly never seen any sweetpeas anywhere near this part of the garden. They usually grow near the fence on the other end, so... 

He swallows, glancing up at the willow tree. 

It can't be... right? But what else could cause this? Nothing else makes sense. 

Strange, beautiful, and sad. Those have always been the words that come to mind when Minho looks at the willow tree. Even now they're in his head. But there's something else, although Minho can't tell if he's just hopelessly deluding himself and making things up. 

In the warm shadow of the willow, he feels safe. In the past, just being in the clearing made him unnerved and jumpy, but now it's like something has shifted. He feels safe. 

He feels like the first time he met her, when he was just a lonely child and she asked him if he wanted a home. 

Maybe he's crazy. Maybe he's just desperate. Either way, for the first time in years, Minho feels truly seen. 

Soonie is remarkably docile in his arms as he walks back to the cottage, and Minho can't help but be grateful that she came with him. 

He drops her off when he comes back inside, stripping down and making his way back to the bedroom. Jisung is still fast asleep, curled in on himself under the blankets right where Minho left him. 

He almost wants to leave him like that, let him keep sleeping, but he doesn't remember sweetpeas being in the book Jisung let him read and he hasn't looked into any of the books he found in Shiwon's stash that he gave to Jisung. 

He climbs onto the bed carefully, settling down beside Jisung. He looks younger like this. Softer, his face more round and plush-looking. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out and gently shakes Jisung's shoulder. Jisung whines a little, sticking his bottom lip out as he wriggles under Minho's hand. 

"Jisung," Minho says gently, shaking his shoulder again. "Wake up, I need to ask you something." 

"Five more minutes," Jisung slurs out, lifting his arm up like it's the heaviest thing in the world and covering his face with it. 

Apologetically, Minho says, "Jisung, I followed you out to the garden last night." 

Jisung goes silent. A moment passes. Jisung slowly lowers his arm, revealing worried and unfocused eyes as he looks up at Minho. "Really?" 

Minho nods. 

Jisung covers his face with his arm again, his voice muffled against the fabric of his— Minho's— shirt. " 'M sorry. I overstepped." 

Eyes softening, Minho reaches out to take Jisung's hand in his. In the still mostly asleep state he's in right now, Jisung can't put up much of a fight as Minho lifts his arm up. He raises Jisung's hand to his face, gently brushing his lips over Jisung's knuckles. 

Jisung's eyes widen, his face immediately coloring, 

"You didn't," Minho tells him firmly, lips still against Jisung's skin. "And I think what you said last night did something." 

"What?" Jisung says, struggling to sit up in bed. "What do you mean?" 

"There were sweetpeas growing at the roots of Shiwon's tree," Minho tells him, slowly lowering Jisung's hand back to the bed but not letting go of it. "They've never grown there before and the garden doesn't just grow new things wherever it wants, so... I think it was you. Or Shiwon. Or... both?" 

"Oh," Jisung says a bit dumbly. Then, much louder, "Oh!" 

"I don't think sweetpeas were in your book. Do you know what they mean?" Minho asks. 

Jisung immediately starts struggling to get out of bed, but Minho puts a hand on his shoulders to hold him in place. 

"Just tell me what the book is and I'll bring it to you," Minho tells him. 

"Red cover, white lilies on the front," Jisung replies, and Minho wastes no time darting out of the room to look for it. 

It's fairly easy to find. Jisung keeps a stack on his favorite books near the rocking chair and this one is near the top. 

Hypothetically, Minho could've just came back in and searched for the flower language books and looked them up all by himself without bothering Jisung. But that doesn't seem right to do. He wants Jisung to be part of this and Jisung does too. 

He brings the book back to Jisung, finding him sitting up in bed against the headboard waiting for him. He sits down next to him, handing him the book. Jisung takes it and begins immediately flipping through it, finding the right page quickly. 

He looks down at the entry for a moment, reading it to himself before he hands it back to Minho, a small smile on his face. "I think you should read it yourself." 

He takes the book, looking curiously at Jisung before down at the page. He skims down the lines of text and little illustrations before his eyes land on what he's looking for. 

_Sweetpeas: Good-bye; Departure; Blissful Pleasure; Thank You for a Lovely Time_

Minho stares down at the tiny words, utterly bewildered. He looks over to Jisung again. "What does this mean?" 

Jisung simply presses his lips together and gives a little shrug. "I don't really think it's my place to interpret what seems like a message for you. I _do_ think you're right that this was Shiwon finding a way to communicate somehow." 

"Right, well," Minho says slowly, "these flowers are about goodbyes. And not— not in a bad way." Jisung just nods. "So does that mean... she's telling me it's okay if I want to leave?" 

"Do you think that's what it means?" Jisung asks. 

Minho leans back, sinking down in the bed so he's laying on the pillows again, staring up at the ceiling. It would make sense. It fits Jisung's request. 

That means that whatever semblance of Shiwon's spirit that's left inside the willow agreed with him; with all of it, presumably. That he shouldn't be unhappy, that he— 

That he was her son? 

He's not as bitter as he thought he would be, actually, that Jisung got Shiwon to speak when he couldn't. It feels... right, in an odd way. And it still feels like it was meant for him, despite Jisung being what prompted her to finally respond. 

And maybe she couldn't before, not until Minho found Jisung. It's hardly like a tree can talk back, he came to terms with that years ago. But flowers? Before Jisung and the books on flowers, those sweetpeas would've been meaningless to him. 

He needed Jisung. He still needs him. 

Taking a deep breath, Minho says, "I think... that is what she meant." 

"Okay," Jisung says softly, and when Minho looks over to him he's smiling warmly. 

"Do you disagree?" Minho asks. 

Jisung shakes his head, reaching out to take Minho's hand in his. Their fingers lock together naturally like they were made to do this. "I think you're right, but I didn't want to put words in your mouth or push you to believe anything just because I did." 

Minho squeezes down on Jisung's hand and then— 

And then he breathes out, and it's like years of weight is finally sliding off his shoulders. 

His eyes flutter shut, his chest suddenly much lighter— was it always this heavy? 

Jisung shifts next to him and the next thing he knows, Jisung has his other arm wrapped around Minho, snuggling close to him. 

"So," Jisung says, voice still soft, "do you still want to stay here? It's alright if you do, I really did mean what I said about thinking I'd be happy here. Or you can think about it, if you need time—" 

"I want to travel with you," Minho says instantly, eyes opening again as he turns his head to look at Jisung. Their faces are so close, the tips of their noses just a whisper away from touching. 

The smile Jisung wears then is so genuine, so lovely, so beautiful, that Minho has no choice but to lean in and kiss it off of him. 

\---

They spend the next couple of months planning and preparing, and as they do, spring comes. Minho spends time reinforcing the enchantments on the cottage and garden, adjusting the wards that redirect people with ill intent so that nobody but a resident of the cottage can find the path at all— Jisung notably included beside Minho's name. 

They could leave at any time, really, but Minho has one last thing he wants to see before they do. 

It's alright. Neither of them really seem to mind, not when they have each other. 

(And when they aren't preparing for their adventure, they spend it together. Minho can now say rather assuredly that Jisung's kisses are very, very good.) 

Spring is on the warm side this year, and maybe that's the reason the sweet smell of blossoms drift in on the breeze a few weeks earlier than usual. 

"I have a question," Jisung asks as they pack their things, looking up at Minho curiously from across the room. 

Minho just hums for him to ask, placing his favorite journals in the bag he's holding. 

"Months and months ago, you said you had a theory about why the garden let me in," Jisung says. "You didn't want to tell me what it was unless you were sure you were right. We won't be back here for a while, so I was just thinking about that again. Did you ever figure it out?" 

And Minho can't help but laugh at that, because yeah. Yeah, he's sure about it now. 

Abandoning the bag he's packing, he walks over to where Jisung stands and takes his face in his hands, admiring the way his cheeks look when cupped by Minho's palms. Jisung just raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for his answer with sparkling eyes. 

"Do you remember when I told you that the garden has a way of providing whatever you need?" Minho asks, and a moment passes before Jisung laughs. 

"Is that it?" Jisung asks, a smile on his face. "The garden let me in because it knew I needed you?" 

"Or that I needed you," Minho says, ignoring the way his face warms as he speaks. 

Jisung's eyes are bright and glimmering but there's an undeniable softness in them. His voice is unbearably fond as he speaks, "Two lonely idiots who needed each other... the garden's a good matchmaker. I almost feel bad that we're leaving." 

Minho laughs at that. "After all this?" 

"Almost," Jisung repeats, and that just makes Minho laugh harder. 

"It's not like we'll never come back," Minho says, and it's a good reminder to himself as well. He's happy to be leaving, setting out to travel and see the world with Jisung, but there's undeniably a little part of him that's still sad to be leaving his childhood home. "It's warded and enchanted so nobody can find it but us. It'll be here waiting whenever we want to stay for a while." 

"We can come back for winter," Jisung says thoughtfully. "Then leave again when the trees blossom. And if we ever get sick of traveling, we can just come back here for good. We're free to do whatever we want." 

"That sounds lovely," Minho murmurs, taking a step closer to Jisung so there's no room left between them. 

Smiling, Jisung lays a hand on Minho's chest— over his heart— and tilts his head up so their lips are just a breath apart. "Wherever we go, what matters is we're together. That's all that matters." 

And Minho kisses him then, slow and sweet in the spring sunshine that comes in through the windows of the cottage. 

They finish packing their things with the help of a bit of magic to fit everything together and a lot of coaxing the cats into carriers Minho enchanted to float beside them as they travel. Because as much as he thinks the garden would probably provide for the cats if he left them, there's absolutely no way he would ever leave them behind. 

They're his kids, as Jisung so aptly put it when he admitted he wanted to bring them with. Of course he wants them to come. 

As they make their way outside, Minho comes to a stop on the stone path. He turns, taking a long moment to imprint the image of the cottage into his mind. 

It's strange and bittersweet looking at the familiar cottage, its stone and creeping ivy and the iron fence that started everything. It makes him sad, in a way, that it isn't really his home anymore. 

But that's alright, Minho thinks as Jisung takes his hand and intertwines their fingers, because he knows where his new home is now and he wouldn't trade that for the world. 

Hand in hand, they set off towards the river, the sweet scent of blossoms hanging in the air around them. 

And for the first time in years, Minho feels truly hopeful and, most of all, happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was most certainly not meant to reach 70k words, but... here we are! thanks to my friends who put up with me being an awful grouch because of writing this fic and thank you to [the artist](https://twitter.com/ssomfa) i worked with for their continued patience as i worked on whatever the hell happened to this monster of a fic right up until the deadline. **if you held off on looking at the art for this fic until you finished reading (or just want to look at how cute it is again LOL), it can be found[HERE!](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XHJKRepu37tBkc-LijH3Q2axl1IeS5kO/view?usp=sharing)**
> 
> this fic is definitely a bit heavier than most fics i write and i know it was a bit melodramatic at times, but i do sincerely hope the more serious topics involved in this fic came across as genuine, seeing as i pulled from my own experiences. the romance is what people clicked for, i'm sure, but the process of grief and healing is just as central to this piece of writing as minho and jisung's relationship. in my head, they're even intertwined. all i can really hope is i did it even a bit justice.
> 
> thank you for reading if you made it this far! take care of yourselves.
> 
> ☆ twitter: [LlNOHAN](https://twitter.com/LlNOHAN)  
> ☆ curiouscat: [lunarminho](https://curiouscat.me/lunarminho)


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